Only a factory boy ; and, From ball room to weave room

Jill II

THE LIBRARY OF THE

UNIVERSITY OF

NORTH CAROLINA

THE COLLECTION OF

NORTH CAROLINIANA

FROM THE LIBRARY OF

George M. Stephens

C313
T4.550

<?>?'£

This book must not
be taken from the
Library building.

MRS. ETHEL THOMAS
(Becky Ann Jones)

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ONLY A FACTORY BOY

AND =

} From Ball Room

! to Weave Room

BY =

MRjS. ETHEL THOMAS

The author has had seventeen years
experience as a mill woman

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? DEDICATED f

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Respectfully, Hopefully, and Prayerfully to the

Superintendents of our Southern Cotton

Mills, who are interested in the

Physical, Mental and Moral

{ Welfare of Our I

1 Mill Boys f

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Mill News Publishing Company

Charlotte, N. C.

WASHBURN PRESS

Copyright 1914

h

Mrs. Ethel Thomas

ONLY A FACTORY BOY

CHAPTER I.

"Dilsie, I knows des how you feels. I doan lak de new
mistis, nuder. She got de debil in her bigger'n a mule."

Uncle Mose, little, old. wrinkled and gray, rose from his
seat in the cabin door, cast one long lingering look toward the
"big house" a short distance away and heaved a troubled sigh.
Aunt Dilsie was dishing out supper and deposited the viands on
the table with a vim that emphasized her wrath. Her round
fat face, which usually shone with good nature and satisfaction,
was now stamped with hearty disapproval. Her turbaned head
was held high, but there was a suspicious moisture in her soft
black eyes which she tried slyly to wipe away with the corner
of her snowy aporn. Uncle Mose watched her furtively as he
sat down to the table. Presently her wrath exploded :

"Hit's enough to make de dead turn ober in dey graves!
Here we's bin cookin' an' a milkin' an' a pidlin aroun' at de
big house nigh on to fifty year, an' dis am de fus' time we's
been tol' we mus'n eat in de white folks kitchen. We stayed wid
old Marse an' old Mis' LeGrande Ion' as dey live. We nussed
Marse Henry, an' stayed right on wid him 'twel he married, an'
right on 'twel de purty Misits died, an' right on 'twel now he's
got a nuder won. All dese years me an' you'se been eatin' our
supper in de kitchen an' wuz welcome. Now, here dis new
'oman — she low she ain't gwine to put up wid no sich, an' she
raked de scraps frum 'round de plates, an' chunked 'em all to-
geder in a tin bucket an' said I cud bring 'em on home an eat
'em. Yah! Des same es we wuz hawgs. Den she got down,
she did, an' rite dar she sot 'twel I got de dishes washed; den
she 'low I cud go, now, an' she wood lock up. Des erbout tole
me she wuz skeered I'd steal sumpin. If it wern't for lil Marse
Jack, po' lil mortherless lam' — we'd leave dis place."

"j-- "Dilsie," said Uncle Mose, as he gulped down his victuals,

^» "duz you 'member how de yong mistus charged us 'fore she died

fcv to look ater her chile?"
^x

Oo

6 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Deed I duz. Hits on my min' night an' day. An' we's
gwine ter stick to our lil Marse Jack, too, dat's what we is. I
'specks dat's gwine ter mean more'n we know about ,too, Mose —
stickin' to dat chile."

"Yah ! I dun see a vision of de trubble dat's a comin'. Dat
blasted stuck-up son of de new Mistis gwine ter be peckin' on our
lil lam' all de time. Marse Henry, shore to de Lawd, wuz plum
crazy when he married dat brack-eyed widder nohow," said
Uncle Mose.

"Dat 'oman ain't no common critter. She des put a spell
on Marse Henry," declared Aunt Dilsie. "I bin a watchin' her
tricks. She rolls dem brack eyes o' hern at him an smiles kinder
deblish, an' bress de Lawd ! she des twists him 'round her finger
lak he wuz a string. She don't like lil' Jack, but Marse Henry's
so carried away wid her, he can't see it. An dat preshus
'Arthur' of her'n is already a peckin on our chile, an dey ain't
been here but free weeks!"

"An' I tell yo' right now, Dilsie, if he don't stop dat de
ground's gwine ter be pawed up with de happenins."

"Humph!" sniffed Aunt Dilsie. "Stop yo' no sense talk an
eat yo' suppah. Yo' ain't gwine ter do nuffin and yo' knows it."

"Don't speckerlate on dat, ole 'oman. I ain't gwine ter take
no foolishness from dat deblish 'oman's brat. It ain't right fo'
a big strong healthy twelve-year-old boy to be peckin on our
lil delicate Marse Jack what ain't but ten. If he gits to 'posin
on dat chile, I goes straight to Marse Henry an' axe him to stop
it."

"Yeh! dat's what yo'll do is it?" snorted his wife. "Ain't I
done tole yo' she gwine to rule dis here whole plantation an
Marse Henry throwed in? You go to him wid yo' tales about
things consernin dat 'oman an he'll send us a hikin offen dis
place."

Mose looked incredulous, and he stared at Dilsie in amaze-
ment.

"Dilsie, duz yo' reckin dat would shorely happen? Duz yo'
'spose dat 'oman could turn Marse Henry again us as has nussed
him when he wuz a baby?"

"I doan 'reckin nuffin. I knows it. He's des crazy 'bout her
and she'll do des es she pleas 'bout anything."

Uncle Mose sipped his coffee in silence while his old features
took on a more serious expression. A sudden foreboding made

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 7

him shudder. He leaned across the corner of the table and laid
a trembling hand on his wife's arm and half whispered :

"Ole 'oman, do you 'spose she'll git all dis here property
dat rightly 'longs to lil Jack, and he git nuffin?"

"I done tole you dat she'll do des as she pleases 'bout any-
thing," retorted Aunt Dilsie, as she left the table and walked to
the front door of the cabin and looked out toward the "big
house."

It was June. Around her clean, well-kept yard, was a
border of old-fashioned flowers in riotous profusion and gor-
geous coloring — marigolds and zinias of every variety, mixed
with bachelor-buttons and what she called "purty-be-nights" —
and in each "square" a bed of scarlet verbenas.

The "big house," a handsome colonial building, half hid-
den by magnolia and crepe myrtle trees, was about two hundred
yards distant and from there the sweet odor of June roses and
fragrant honeysuckle filled the air.

"He's comin' — bless his lil hart," said Aunt Dilsie. "He
lonesomer den ever now — po' chile," and she turned back into
the cabin, and commenced to hurriedly clear the table.

Presently a slender, blue-eyed, golden-haired boy and large
dog came to the door.

"Come right in, honey," said Uncle Mose, drawing up one
of the two pretty willow rockers that had been a Christmas
present from Jack's mother several years back, and were the
pride of this old couple.

"Duz yo' want suppah, honey?" asked Aunt Dilsie.
The boy turned troubled eyes toward her, and said:

"No, thank you, Auntie. But have you had any? Oh! if
Mamma could be here and see how things is a going. Auntie,
it's a shame the way you was insulted. I told Papa about it —
and — and — " but here the child choked and stopped.

"Doan you be pestered honey — dat wuz alright. Me an'
Mose is a gwine ter enjoy settin down to our own table," and
she gave Mose a warning glance.

"Yeh! Dat's what,' 'added Mose. "We shore did enjoy our
suppah. Seem des lak we wuz newly married an des gone to
housekeeping — ha! ha!" Jack's face brightened:

"I'm so glad you didn't mind," he said, evidently much
relieved. "Papa says he can't meddle with Mis' Florence's
affairs and said you would understand."

8 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Yes, in course we duz, chile, an' doan you be worrit,"
answered Aunt Dilsie. "Everybody's got dey own noshuns an'
dey own way of doing-. Me an' Mose hain't neber been bossed
'round lak slave niggers — not even in slavery times. But if
it comes to dat now, we hain't got no kick — we ain't got long
to live no how, an' we can be happy on de has beens," she
chuckled.

Jack looked at his old nurse half doubtfully, but both she
and Uncle Mose broke into a hearty laugh, and he did not reply.
The big dog squatted by the boy, laid his head on his master's
knee and looked lovingly into his face.

"Joe has learned another trick to-day," smiled Jack, strok-
ing the dogs head. Joe acknowledged the compliment by wag-
ging his tail.

"De land sakes! Ain't dat dawg got sense? What he
done gone an' larnt now, honey?" asked Uncle Mose, glad to
turn the lad's thoughts into more pleasant channels.

"Dat de finest dawg in de country. He orter be in de
cirkis," declared Aunt Dilsie, determined that Mose should not
offer all the compliments. "What yo' larnt him now, chile?"
Jack bent and looked lovingly into the dogs eyes and said:

"Joe, what would you do if me and you had to part?" For
answer, the dog fell to the floor, groaned and stretched out stiff,
his eyes closed, and he was to all appearances dead.

"De Lawd hab mussy!" exclaimed Aunt Dilsie, while Uncle
Mose gazed with twitching lips and blinking eyes at the silent
form.

"I think I'd die, too, without Joe," said Jack softly, with
tears in his eyes. Then to the dog, as he knelt beside him.

"Joe as long as me and you both live we will stick together."
Instantly the beautiful dog sprang up and barked joyously, as
he capered about the room.

"Jack," called a voice from the yard.

"That's Arthur hunting me," his whispered. Then he called
out:

"Come in Arthur, and Uncle Mose will tell us some war
tales. He knows a lot of good ones."

"Thanks," came the curt answer. "I don't visit niggers.
Mother thought you were out here and asked me to call you
in. It's bed time for little boys, so come on."

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 9

"I'm a good mind to sic Joe on the mean, ill-mannered
thing," he muttered. "Joe would do him up a job if I said so."

"We doan mine bein' called 'niggers' honey — dat's alright —
dat's what we is," grinned Mose bravely, while Aunt Dilsie
added: "I spec it am getting' late, chile, an' Mis' Florence is
skeered de night air ain't good fo' you. An' den, 'Arly to bed
an' 'arly to rise make de boys healthy, wealthy an' wise, you
know. So jes be a good boy an' mine yo' pa and Mis' Florence
an' eberting come out alright honey lam'. So g'long home to
yo' rest mah chile, an' trus' in de Lawd," and her old toil worn
hand rested lovingly on the boys golden curls as he passed out
into the night.

"Look here, boy. I heard what you said," commenced
Arthur, "and if that dog ever looks like he wants to bite me,
he had better be prepared for dog heaven." Jack made no
answer. Fear for his dog's safety chilled his heart.

Back in the cabin, the old darkies gazed at each other in
dumb agony.

"We dun right, anyhow, Dilsie," whispered Mose. "We
hain't got to let nuffin dat's done to us worry dat chile."

"Dat's de truf, Mose. An' we mus'n let him know what
we think ob de new Mistus. We's gotter 'pear lak we sides
wid her eber time we kin. We gotter act de deceiber's part
an' be hypocricks here in our ole age. We gotter be wise es
sarpints an' harmless es doves, if we specks to stay here an'
look atter lil Marse Jack," said Dilsie with conviction.

When the boys reached the house, Arthur joined his
mother and step-father in the sitting room, but Jack with Joe
at his heels went upstairs without even a "goodnight" to anyone.
The child was humiliated, crushed and filled with bitter resent-
ment. His little heart throbbed violently and his cheeks burned
with indignation. He felt all alone in the world. His father
didn't share his big rocker now with him, or have him to talk
with him occasionally. "Miss Florence" was always at his side
petting and loving him into forgetfulness of his first love and
keeping him so entranced with her bewitching ways that he
cared for nothing else in the world.

"Did dear little Jack come in?" asked Mrs. LeGrande of
Arthur, as he entered the big cool room and found her sitting
on the broad arm of her husband's chair.

"Yes. He's gone upstairs," replied Arthur.

10 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Without saying good-night to his papa? Oh, my dear,"
turning to Mr. LeGrande, "I am so troubled. Jack doesn't
like me, I fear, and Arthur, who has never had trouble winning
the effections of his associates, has so far found it impossible
to win Jack."

Mr. LeGrande rose from his seat, hurried into the hall
and from the foot of the stairs called to Jack, who was at the
head of the landing.

"Son, come here." There was a touch of tenderness mixed
with disappointment in his voice. Jack's heart rose in his
throat, and he felt the coming of choking tears. He longed
to rush into his father's arms, but wounded pride and bitter
indignation held him back. He gripped the railing with tremb-
ling hands and called softly, and f alteringly :

"Papa, please, I don't want to see any one tonight — I — I — "
Mr. LeGrande with anxious strides, mounted the stairs and
stood by his child. The dim light in the hall revealed that Jack
was white faced and that his blue eyes were red with unshed
tears.

"Jack, what is the matter with you?" in a speculative tone.
"You are acting quite unreasonable, aren't you? Why do you
shun your mother?" Jack winced. Never would he call her
"mother," he vowed inwardly. "She is ready and anxious to
do a mother's part by you and she is grieved because you seem
to dislike her. My son, why do you hurt me like this?"

"Papa, she ain't one bit like my pretty blue-eyed mamma —
how can I like her? — And — and she and Arthur treat Uncle
Mose and Aunt Dilsie same as if they were dogs — and they
are my best friends — now. You don't love me like you did before
she come between us — I ain't got nobody now, but Uncle Mose
and Aunt Dilsie and Joe," wailed the child, his head bowed on
the railing, and his body quivering. When his name was men-
tioned Joe barked in sympathy, and shoved his head under
Jack's arms, and kissed him on the cheek.

Dear me," came the voice of "Miss Florence" from the
hall. "Didn't I hear the dog upstairs? The house will be full
of fleas."

"I'll bring him down presently, dear," called her husband.
Jack threw his arm around Joe's neck.

"Papa, let him stay with me. He can lie on the rug — he's

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 11

clean and nice — you know he is — and he ain't got a flea on him.
Please, papa, — I'm lonesome."

"Jack, don't be so foolish." Mr. LeGrande was hurt, and
resented the accusation of his son. Of course he loved him
the same as ever. But Jack was getting- to be quite a puzzle.
He didn't understand the heart-hunger and longing for love and
sympathy, that made the child appear sullen, morose and ill-
tempered.

"Kiss me good-night son, and try to understand. You
know I love you just as I always did — but your conduct of late
is dreadful and terribly disappointing. Have some consideration
for my feelings and wishes. It is foolish and ungrateful of you,
to resent the advances of your mother and Arthur. We can
all be so happy together if you will only be rea'sonable and act
sensibly. I was pleased with the thought that you would find
pleasure in the companionship of a bright, healthy boy."

"Papa, I don't think you understand," said Jack, kissing
him good-night, and bravely steadying his faltering voice.

"I understand every one, I think, but you, Jack," his father
answered. "Of late, you are incorrigible and incomprehensible,
and you are making our home life miserable for all concerned,"
sadly. And Mr. LeGrande went down, taking Joe with him,
leaving poor Jack more bitter and rebellious than ever.

Presently he heard Arthur coming up stairs whistling
merrily and heard him enter his room across the hall. Jack
wondered how he could be so gay, and felt that he, himself, who
never sang or whistled, must in reality show up to terrible dis-
advantage in contrast. Long and late he pondered and resolved
to do his best to keep his father's affection. He would do any-
thing, except to call "Jier" "mother."

CHAPTER II.

The LeGrande plantation was in Montgomery county, North
Carolina, and many of its fertile acres lay along the banks of
the Pee Dee river. The country was not thickly settled, but
for miles around was owned by just a few wealthy planters.
The "neighbors" had all called to welcome the new mistress
of LeGrande Heights, but none of their visits were returned
and social intercourse ceased.

12 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

The only school in the neighborhod was a four months'
public school, taught after crops were gathered, and during
the coldest season of the year. Jack, who had always been
delicate, had never attended. His invalid mother had taught
him the little he knew. Deprived of her loving care at the tender
age of eight, he was then allowed to do pretty much as he
pleased, his father being kept busy superintending his big farm
and looking after his cattle. Aunt Dilsie kept the big house
tidy, did the cooking and "minded lil' Jack."

In those days the sturdy farmers of Montgomery county
thought very little of "book learning." That education was
absolutely essential to success never entered their minds. To
know how to raise corn, cotton and cattle was the one and
only important consideration with them.

Henry LeGrande was a fairly well educated man for those
days, but well liked by his more illiterate neighbors. When he
had returned from a business trip to Danville, Virginia, bring-
ing with him a wife so highly educated, so brilliant and "proper"
that they were really miserable in her presence, they wondered,
shook their heads gravely and then stayed at home.

Two years had passed, Uncle Mose and Aunt Dilsie were
still the kitchen servants, quiet and unobtrusive, humble and
faithful, but ever under the watchful eye of Mis' Florence,
who seemed suspicious of everyone. Mr. LeGrande, busy early
and late superintending his big farm, saw very little of Jack.
The child, frozen by the polite coldness of his step-mother and
teased and ridiculed by Arthur, rarely sat at the table with the
others. Aunt Dilsie managed to fix nice little bag lunches for
his dinner so that he might play on the river with Joe or fish
all day long, if he wished, without becoming hungry. Mis'
Florence knew of this but raised no objections. It suited her
exactly, for the child to stay out of sight and away from his
father, while Arthur made himself useful to "papa" and often
sat besides him in the buggy as he drove through the plantation.

Mis' Florence always looked grave and troubled when JacK
was mentioned or when he was near, if in the presence of her
husband. When his father was not in sight or hearing, Jack
had felt the lash of her sharp sarcastic tongue, and had qualied
before the fierce gleam in her coal black eyes.

But he never carried tales to his father or nurse. He
would die rather than be what Aunt Dilsie called a "tattle tale."

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 13

Arthur knew this, and at every chance teased him unmerci-
fully, delighting to see Jack in a "tantrum." He had a high
temper and could give what Arthur called "interesting exhibi-
tions." Arthur never lost his self-control. He was always calm,
cool and deliberate, and could say the most aggravating things
in a smooth, well modulated tone of voice, that greatly irritated
the high-strung nerves of passionate, sensitive Jack.

Joe was Jack's inseparable companion, and often quivered
and snarled in disapproval of the treatment bestowed on his
master. But, through love of his dog and because he feared for
the dog's life, Jack had never let Joe "have a hand" in any of
his quarrels with Arthur.

One evening, "Mis' Florence" had a serious talk with her
husband. It was just two years after her arrival at the farm.
They were seated on the broad front porch and the odor of
June roses and honeysuckles made the night air fragrant.

"Dearest," she said, "I have been here two years now, and
have been happier than ever in my life."

"Happier than with your first love?" asked her husband,
tenderly stroking her plump white hand.

"Oh, Henry! I never knew what love was until I met you.
I think I never really lived before. How good you are. How
noble and generous. Tell me, have I been a good wife — and —
and mother?"

"My own," he anwsered. "You have made me very happy.
The only trouble I see is about Jack. He seems to care abso-
lutely nothing for any one, except his black mammy, Mose and
Joe. I don't know what to do with him." She answered with
a sigh:

"He and Arthur don't get along together at all. He dis-
likes me as much as ever, though I've tried so hard to win
his love." Here her voice trembled and for a moment she laid
her head on his shoulder.

"Yes, dear, I know you have tried. He's a strange child.
Who could help loving you?" and he tenderly kissed his wife's
cheek.

"Henry, perhaps if we separate the boys it will be better
for both." Mr. LeGrande caught his breath at the thought of
sending Jack away. Where could he send him? There was no
relative interested enough to undertake the care and responsi-
bility of the child.

14 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Henry, dear," she chided, "why do you shudder? You
surely don't think I mean to send your child from home? — that
delicate, sensitive child? No, we will send Arthur away. We
can place him in school somewhere, and — and — "

"Flora! Would you send your child away?" gasped the man
in astonishment.

"He is strong and brave, and would go willingly," she con-
tinued— "gladly, I'm sure, should I explain to him why. Then,
too, Arthur ought to be in school. He was so far advanced that
I thought two years of rest in the country would do him more
good than to continue in school. I don't think Jack could bear
the confinement of the school room. His health would not
permit it. I think he is getting stronger, though, than he was,
and if he would only eat his meals regularly, am sure that he
would gain in health and strength more rapidly. Really, dear,
I want to send Arthur away, and try the experiment. Shall we?"

"I shall miss him terribly," he replied. "He is very dear
to me. How I wish Jack was like him."

The woman's dark eyes shone with satisfaction. A gentle
rustle in the honeysuckle vines at the end of the porch, made
her start a little. She knew that Arthur was listening.

"I'm so glad Arthur is a comfort and pleasure to you,"
she replied softly. "He never loved his own father as he
loves you."

"Humph! I guess not," mentally ejaculated the eaves-
dropper. "Daddy Mason didn't have a bank account or anything
else that was any account — wasn't any account himself. But
ain't mother a peach. Gee! If she hadn't roped old soft head
we'd both be in Dan River Cotton Mills right now."

It was decided that Arthur should enter school at Greens-
boro in September and from then on he did everything possible
to show his love for "papa" and to make himself almost indis-
pensable to the man's comfort. At every safe opportunity he
teased Jack and played all kinds of cruel jokes on him.

Late one afternoon about the middle of July, Arthur and
Bud Ingram, a neighbor boy who had come to spend the night
with him and "eat watermelon" went into the barn. Uncle
Mose, who was in the loft looking for eggs, heard them talking.
Hearing Jack's name mentioned he placed his hands to his ears
and listened.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 15

'That blasted dog might get us," objected Bud. "He'd do
anything for Jack. He's mighty nigh human, that dog is."

" Darn the dog! Oh, I'll borrow him from Jack to hunt
,muskrats tonight. Then I'll shut him up and we'll be safe.
I'd kill the brute but I'm afraid to," said Arthur.

"Now, what am dat young debil a plottin again mah chile?"
wondered Uncle Mose. "Guess I'll put a spoke in dat wheel
when it gins to roll," he thought, and again strained his old
ears to understand the conversation.

"What makes him set his hooks over on the island? Is it a
better place than on the main bank of the river?" asked Bud.

"Guess so — he certainly does catch the fish. We have 'em
all the time and I know he supplies his old nigger mammy's
table, too. Now, we must get over there before he does. He
goes about 9 o'clock when the moon rises. We'll hide our boat
so he can't find it, and while he's busy with his hooks, we'll
take his boat and leave him on the island, and he'll have to
stay there all night."

"He's mighty little for us to play a joke on like that, and
I'd hate awful to be caught at it," replied Bud. Arthur ignored
the first objection and exclaimed:

"We won't get caught. And if he cuts up too bad after
being left, why we'll be muskrat hunting and hear him after
awhile and will rescue him. It's no bad idea to do a good turn
for a fellow and place him under obligations."

"You're a sharp one," laughed Bud. "But where is the
colt you wanted to show me?"

"It must be in the pasture with it's mother," said Arthur.
'It's not in the stall, I see," and the boys went out.

When he thought it safe, old Mose came down from the
loft, his little eyes snapping wrathfully.

"So dat's what dey 'low to do to mah lil' Jack. Yah ! I'll
fix dem brats," and he hurried home to consult with Aunt
Dilsie.

Presently, Jack and Joe came along and stopped in the
yard. Jack sat down on a bench and listened to Uncle Mose
as he told what he had heard in the barn.

"They shan't have Joe! I'll take him with me and what's
more I'll sic him on 'em," Jack declared.

"Now, honey, you listen to me an' we'll des turn de tables
on dem pow'ful funny brats. You des let 'em have Joe to hunt

16 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

mus'rats — dat's all rite! An' you go long to yo' fishin' des as
yo' allers does. We's gwine ter fix 'em."

Then Mose and Dilsie unfolded a plan that made Jack
almost scream with laughter, and his blue eyes danced while he
thought of the fun that was promised.

"Sh ! Dem brats is a comin' crost de cotton patch dis away
now," warned Aunt Dilsie. "Dey bin stealin' our watermelions
lak as not."

"Want a melon, nigger?" laughed Arthur as he and Bud
came around the cabin, and he rolled a small one on the ground
toward Uncle Mose.

"Yes, sah ! an' thankee," answered the old darkey. "I hain't
felt lak going to mah patch today."

"I smell something good cooking," remarked Bud, sniffing
the air.

"Yes, sah, hit's fish what lil Jack gin us," replied Aunt
Dilsie with a low courtesy. He shore do ketch dem things. But
I wish he wouldn't set his hooks away off dar on de island whar
dat 'oman got kilt durin' de war. I speck he gwine ter see her
sperit walkin' on de water sum o' dese nights an' be skeered
purty night to death." Jack laughed:

"If I see her, Aunt Dilsie, I'll ask her to take a ride in
my boat."

Arthur looked at the boy in amazement. He had never
seen him so animated. He supposed old Mose had been telling
Jack some funny and interesting yarns — and indeed he had.

The two boys presently started toward the big house, and
as if it was an after thought, Arthur turned back and spoke
pleasantly to Jack :

"Say! Bud and I want to hunt muskrats tonight. Will
you lend us your dog? We'll take good care of him."

"Why, yes, of course, you may have him," replied Jack.

"I'd ask you to go along, too, kid, but we're going too far
and through too rough places for you," said Arthur. "Have
Joe up at the house by dusk. We want to go soon as we can
get supper," and Arthur hurried on atfer Bud.

Joe looked at Jack as if comprehending every word and
wagged his tail.

"Yes, Joe, it will be alright," smiled the boy, patting the
dog's head. "But I'm sorry you'll not be there to see the fun."
Then he turned to Dilsie :

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 17

"Get early supper for 'em, Auntie, so they won't have to
wait," he laughed.

"Dat's what, honey. I'se gwine right now soon es I take
up dem fish fur Mose's suppah."

"Yah! ha! ha!" laughed Mose, "an you g'long, too, honey,
an' be jolly an soshable to dem boys whilst I fix fur bizness.
An' doan yo git skeered at nuffin yo' see on dat island dis night.
But, I tells you right now, lil Marse, dars gwine ter be sumpin
doin! Somebody gwine ter rip fru dem bramble boo briars
mighty reckless an' gwine ter call on de rocks an de mountings
to come over an squash 'em! Yah! Dar's gwine ter be weepin'
and wailin' an' smashin' ob teef !" Dilsie and Mose both laughed
long and heartily, pleased to see that they were joined by Jack.

Never, during the two past years had the boy been so happy.
The spirit of retaliation was strong within him. He would
get pay now, all at once, for what he had suffered at Arthur's
hands. If it turned out as he anticipated he felt like he could
forgive the past and start over again.

Jack, Joe and Dilsie went to the "big house," and while
Dilsie finished her work there, Uncle Mose found some pieces
of hemp rope about two feet long, untwisted and combed them
out, then made a stiff flour paste as he chuckled to himself and
waited for Dilsie to return.

She soon came, and with many grunts of satisfaction the
hemp combings were securely fastened to his wooly head and
a long glittering string of glass beads was wound around the
wonderful head dress. Then the paste was spread over his black
face, and by the light of the candle, Mose was a sight to send
the creeps over any one.

Dilsie then rolled a pair of white stockings and a white
night gown into a bundle, which Mose tucked under his arm
and then stole from the back door across the cotton patch
through the rank bottom corn and to the river. Soon he was
in his boat which he kept securely hidden in the tall grass and
cat-tails which grew on the river bank, and with rapid, noise-
less strokes he reached the island and with all the cunning of an
Indian, again hid his little boat.

Then hiding in a thicket of honeysuckles and grapevines, he
waited and watched. Nor had he long to wait. Bud and
Arthur soon came and landed several yards above the usual
landing and carefully hid their boat.

18 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

Laughing and talking in a low tone they made their way
through the tangled underbrush, passed by old Mose and went
across the little island to where Jack's basket and hooks were set.

"Dey's gwine ter steal de chile's fish!" growled old Mose.
"Well, des let 'em !" and he slipped out of his hiding place, hur-
ried to where the boys had hidden their boat, jumped into it,
carried it fifty yards further up the river, ran it into a big
bed of water lillies and fastened it to a projecting root.

Hurrying back he hid in the thicket, put on his "robe" and
run his hands into the white stockings, and was ready for
business.

Presently Jack came, and as he went across the island
softly whistling, the two boys each carrying a nice string of
fish, stolen from Jack's basket, ran into the low bushes.

"Let's scare him!" whispered Arthur, and at once let forth
a long, mournful wail, just as Jack pulled up his basket. A
few yards back of our two boys, came an answering wail,
louder, prolonged and blood curdling.

"Gee! What was that?" gasped Bud, catching Arthur by
the arm.

"Darned if I know!" answered the boy, his teeth chatter-
ing and his heart pounding wildly. Jack threw the empty
basket back into the river, straightened, turned and called
out in a clear, steady voice:

"Is that you Lady Ghost? Try it again!"

"Gosh! Hain't he got nerve?" whispered Bud, his hair
rising. Again came that awful cry as of a lost soul, and the two
boys, still clinging to their fish, dashed pell mell through the
thick undergrowth toward Jack's boat that was pulled up on
the pebbles in the pale moonshine.

"Oh, my soul! Run, Bud, run! Let's get away from here
quick!" groaned Arthur catching a glimpse of something white
just ahead of them.

"Are we going to leave Jack here with that?" gasped Bud,
his face pale as death and his eyes bulging.

"Oh, come on, or I'll leave you with him," wailed Arthur.
That settled Bud's conscience, and he had no trouble keeping up
with his friend.

Just as the boys were about to enter the boat a tall white
form with glittering crown and long flowing yellow hair silently
confronted them, and slowly raised a slim white hand and pointed

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 19

up the river. "Cowards! Thieves! Beware!" came a sepul-
charl whisper.

"Oh Lord! The Ghost!" screamed Arthur.

"It shore is!" wailed Bud and dropping their fish, both
boys dashed for their own boat, tearing through brambles and
hawthorn bushes, falling to their knees as they were tripped
by the vines, while right behind them came that terrible ghost,
silently but threateningly.

"Heaven help us ! our boat is gone !" wailed Arthur. "Yes,
gone!" half crying.

"Sh! So is the ghost!" whispered Bud trembling. "Arthur,
let's get Jack to take us back! We'll have to ! We'll just have to
tell him all about it and beg for mercy."

"No! No! we can't do that — let's swim back?" said Arthur,
but he followed Bud back towards Jack's boat, his knees tottering
under him and threatening to give way. They were about to
call to Jack as he came toward his boat, but what they saw
froze the blood in their veins and struck them dumb.

The ghost was there and beckoned to Jack. Jack silently
followed it to where the boys had dropped the fish. The ghost
pointed to the fish and Jack stooped and picked them up. Then
it pointed up the river and let forth a warning cry that almost
made Arthur and Bud faint with terror, and their hair to
stand on end.

Jack returned to his boat and the ghost followed.

"Will you ride with me, Lady Ghost?" called Jack as he
entered his boat!

And to the joy of our heroes, who were left behind, the
white form silently entered the boat and sat down. Jack pad-
dled away, and when about half way across, the white thing
rose to its feet uttering a wail of despair and the trembling
boys saw it leap with a great splash into the water and sink to
rise no more.

"Thar now!" Mose whispered. "It wuzn't in de progrom fer
me to sink Dilsie's night gown, but Pse gone and done it!
Glad you had dem rocks in de boat!"

CHAPTER III.

"Now, what'll we do?" wailed Bud. "You've got me into
a purty mess ! That spirit'll be back here directly too !" Arthur
stood straining his eyes after Jack. Terror made his heart
quake. His tongue seemed paralyzed. His knees grew weaker
and he sank limply to the ground. Finally, he whispered :

"We won't dare to try to swim it, — that thing's between
here and the bank ! Oh, Bud ! we are in a terrible fix."

The moon rose higher and higher and grew brighter and
brighter. The two boys huddled close together and conversed
in low whispers. The lonely hoot of owls, the croaking of
frogs and the occasional quivering notes of the screech owl
made them almost shriek in agony.

"And Jack wasn't one bit afraid! I can't understand that!"
whispered Arthur in awe.

"Of course not! He ain't got no call to be skeered of his
mother's spirit," answered Bud.

"His mother's?" questioned Arthur.

"Yes, that shore was Mis' Evelyn. I've seen her many a
time with her long yaller hair hanging down like that. She's
watchin' over her boy. Say did you notice her starry crown?"

"I reckon I did! Didn't it shine though? But, Bud, I
thought spirits stayed around where their bodies were buried,"
puzzled Arthur.

"Not allers. Grandpa Ingram has seen his mother's spirit
many and many a time. It alters comes to him if he's about
to git in trouble, no matter where he happens to be. Take it
from me, Arthur, you'd better stop playing jokes on Jack if
you don't want to be hanted," declared Bud. Arthur said noth-
ing. He was dumb with fright and misery. Presently Bud
asked :

"Won't your folks get uneasy and hunt us? It must be
purty near midnight !" Arthur groaned :

"No they will all go to bed and sleep and never miss us till
morning! They will find Joe shut up and oh! what sort of a
tale can we get up? We must never tell a soul what has
really happened,"

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 21

Now, we will leave our two crest-fallen adventurers and
return to Mose and Jack.

When they reached the bank and landed in the dark shad-
ows, Jack, convulsed with laughter, rolled on the ground, kicked
up his heels and conducted himself after the manner of a real
live healthy boy. Mose, too, was writhing like an eel:

"Golly! I'm 'ginin to think dis here am de bestest tonic
you'se tuck yet! We'll des go into de sperit bizness bi de
wholesale if it gwine ter put sum life in yo' lim's, an fill yo'
full o' tickle lak dat ! I ain't neber had sich fun in awl mah
bawn days. Ha ! ha a — a ! Honey, I des cum purty nigh bustin
wide open when dem brats went rippin up de ribber frew
all dem bramble boo vines hunting fur day boat which I done
hid!"

"Are we going to let them stay here all night, Uncle Mose?"

"Shore we is! Wouldn't dey lef you dar all night all by
yo' lil lonesome? Let 'em drink dey own cup to de dregs. Let
'em taste de wumwood an de gall o' bitterness — it'll do 'em good,
bress de Lawd! Make dey livers act!"

Jack stopped in with Mose a few minutes to tell Aunt
Dilsie about the fun, and it was one of the greatest pleasures
of the evening to see her hold her fat sides and sway back and
forth in uncontrolled mirth.

"Dat ole gown wan't wuf much," she said, as Uncle Mose
told how he had tied a rock in each sleeve and sunk it. Mose
felt relieved. He had feared a scolding from his wife, but she
was too happy over the results of the escapade, to care how
it was conducted. And Jack's happy face and shining eyes would
have paid for forty gowns, she declared.

Jack went on home. Passing the barn he heard Joe whine,
and opening the door, turned him out. The dog jumped around
him joyously and followed him to the porch, where he offered
his paw and barked in answer to Jack's "goodnight."

"Jack, is that you?" called Mis' Florence. She and her
husband slept downstairs.

"Yes — this is Jack," he answered.

"Have you seen Arthur and Bud Ingram?''

"They said they were going to hunt muskrats and I let 'em
have Joe. But as I came from the river, I found Joe fastened
in the barn," answered Jack, hoping that he could answer her
questions without telling an untruth.

22 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"i

'I don't understand that. Jack, take Joe and get Uncle
Mose, and see if you can find them. Oh, they may be drowned !"
she wailed in distress.

"Don't worry, Florence, it is only 10:30 — not late,"
soothed Mr. LeGrande, coming out in the hall.
Then turning to Jack, who stood irresolute.

"Go, son, and see if Joe will track them. Get Mose to go
with you." And Jack hurried out to do as bidden.

Mose laughed heartily:

"Yah ! we'll see if we kin find any trace of the young genle-
mens," he chuckled; and they went straight to the river, and
had just time to hide in the undergrowth as a boat landed.

"Hi!" whispered Mose. "Dey found de boat I reckin!"

"Hush, Joe!" whispered Jack, his hand on the dog's collar.
Then to Mose: "I don't know — there's three of 'em! Here
they come! Sh!" Arthur, Bud and a young mulatto, Sam,
who lived on the place came up the bank. Arthur was saying:

"Sam, I won't forget this! We would have had to stay
on the island all night if you hadn't heard us calling for help.
But don't you ever dare to tell this. I wouldn't have the 'gover-
nor' to know we lost his boat for anything." Sam promised to
keep mum and struck across the field to his home near by, and
then breaking into a terrified run, the boys made for the "big
house.''

"We'll des take dat boat, now dis minite, an fly to de island
an' bring in dem lost boats! Won't day be puzzled in de
mawnin' to find dat boat hitched to de ol sycamo tree same as
eber!"

It only took a few minutes for them to row over and get
the other boats. When they returned to the "big house" Mr.
LeGrande informed them that the boys had come in and gone
to bed.

Again bidding Mose and Joe "good-night" Jack went to his
room. He could see that a light was burning in Arthur's room
and could hear the boys talking in low tones.

He had retired when, with lamp in hand and followed by
Bud, Arthur entered the room. He looked around as if expect-
ing to see some one or something, then spoke, softly :

"Jack, are you sleepy? We're not, and if you aren't we'll
come in a little while,'' he said.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 23

"No, I'm not much sleepy," replied Jack, evenly, sitting up
on the side of his bed. "Must have had pretty good luck
hunting muskrats. You stayed out till your mother was uneasy
about you," replied Jack.

"Time flies like forty when you get busy hunting," grin-
ned Bud. "Did you have good luck? — catch many fish, Jack?"

"Best luck I ever had," replied Jack. Then turning to
Arthur. I thought you wanted Joe to hunt muskrats? What
did you shut him in the barn for?"

"Oh — er — ah — we concluded not to take him," stammered
the boy.

Jack did not press the subject, and try as they would,
they could get no satisfaction out of him concerning his trip
to the island. Bud concluded to put a straight question, so
he laughingly asked :

"Did you see anything of the drowned woman's speret, that
ole Dilsie spoke about?"

"Did you expect I'd see it?" returned Jack.

"Naw ! but say, kid, we was on the river bank and thought
we saw something white over there on the island tonight —
and — the moon was mighty bright and — we thought we saw
the white thing get in your boat with you and — "

"Maybe you did," replied Jack. "I saw it too. Somebody
had stole my fish, but had dropped 'em. That white thing
showed me where they was. I asked it to ride, just as I told
Aunt Dilsie I would, and it got in the boat and sat down.
When we were about half way the thing screamed and first
thing I knew the white thing sailed into the water and went
under."

Arthur turned pale and began to tremble. Bud's teeth chat-
tered and his eyes were wide.

"Wasn't you skeered?" he asked in low, awed tones.

"Not a bit," declared Jack. "What would I be scared for?
I've never done anybody a harm."

"Well, deliver me!" Bud ejaculated fervently.

"No ghosts for mine!" added Arthur. "And I am not
anxious to keep company with any one who is on such good
terms with spooks and hants! Come on, Bud, and let's get out
of here," and Arthur looked around the room as if expecting
to see the "white thing." An innocent little mouse at that
moment made a slight noise in the closet, and the boys rushed

24 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

from the room not a little frightened, while Jack almost
smothered himself with a pillow, to stifle his laughter.

Arthur was a little more careful after that, about playing
tricks on Jack, but teased him at every possible chance.

A few days before Arthur went to school, he and his
mother and father, went to Rockingham, presumably to get
Arthur's school clothes. But in reality, Mr. LeGrande's busi-
ness was to see a lawyer and make his will, something that
his wife had urged for some time, declaring that it was a
precaution that every one should take against the insecurities
and uncertainties of life.

A few days after Arthur had gone, "Mis' Florence"
managed to corner Jack in the sitting room. She had just
heard her husband enter the adjoining room and knowing that
he could hear every word, she proceeded to talk to the boy.

"Jack, dear, Arthur is gone, now, and I hope your father
and I shall see more of you," she said in a fawning voice;
but there was an unmistakable sneer on her lips and a banter-
ing look in her eyes that belied her words. Jack wondered,
but kept silent. She continued :

"I am afraid my big, strong, healthy boy was too rough
in his play sometimes, for a boy of your delicate mould. Was
it not so?" tenderly.

"I have never complained, have I?" returned Jack coldly.
To save his life he could not like or trust his step-mother. She
had repelled him from the very beginning. He was tired, too,
of being called "delicate."

"No, dear, but I have feared it was so. Jack, I sent my
boy away for your sake. I want you to learn to love me as I
love you : Won't you try? And, oh, I'd be so pleased — so would
your dear father — if you would call me 'mother.' Won't you?"
How very well she knew that he wouldn't !

"I can't do that," replied the lad in a hard strained voice.

"Why can't you like me, dear?" plaintively, pleadingly, but
with a devilsh smile on her lips.

"Just because I can't" he blurted out.

"Have Mose and Dilsie prejudiced you against me?" and
she beamed in satisfaction as she saw that Jack was about to
give an exhibition of his temper.

"No, they have not," emphatically, the hot blood mounting
to his fair cheeks.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 25

"Dearie, don't be cross — you don't know how I crave your
love and confidence."

Jack was about to make an impatient retort. He knew
the value of her expressions. He was puzzled, though to know
why she was talking thus, when his father was not there to
hear. No childish heart ever craved love and sympathy more,
but intuition warned Jack against his step-mother.

"Let's kiss and be good friends," came the tender, caressing
voice, but the tantalizing gleam in her eyes and the sneering
curl of her lips filled Jack with fury. Angry tears filled his
eyes.

"Let me out of here!" he demanded, starting to the door,
but she intercepted him and he backed away from her.

"Oh, Jack, dear Jack! do be good!"

Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, comprehension dawned
on the child's mind. Dashing across the room he parted the
curtains which hung between the two rooms, peeped in, and
there saw his father. Turning, he faced his step-mother with
flashing eyes and withering scorn :

"I thought so!" he hissed between clenched teeth, and
dashed past her and from the room.

With a low moan, the woman sank into a chair and buried
her face in her hands, her form quivering convulsively, while
she listened for the approach of her husband. Presently, he
stood by her side and stroked her bowed head:

"Wife! Flora!" she sprang up looking' very much troubled
and confused.

"Oh, Henry! When did you come in?"

"I heard every word, dearest. Don't worry — the boy is
ungrateful and incomprehensible. But we have one son who will
be a comfort to us. How glad I'll be when Arthur finishes school
and comes home to stay ! Jack is a terrible disappointment to me.
Just let him alone, dear — make no more humiliating advances.
I can't bear to see you suffer so from his rudeness," he said sadly.

Jack saw his father leave the house soon after, and followed
him. His cheeks were red with resentment over the trick that
had been played on him. His childish heart throbbed painfully.
He knew that his father was grieved over his conduct. He
wanted to set himself aright in his father's eyes — yet, how could
he? Running, he caught up and took his father's hand, and
looked up wistfully into his face.

26 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Papa, don't be angry with me!" he pleaded. He got no
reply. His father looked at him coldly, and impatiently with-
drew his hand, and stopped in the shade of a large oak.

"Papa!" cried Jack. "Oh, Papa, don't you care for me
at all any more?"

"Is your conduct such as will inspire love?"

"Papa, you don't understand — you won't understand!"

"I understand that you are ungrateful and very disrespectful
to your step-mother. I heard you not more than an hour ago,
and your curt, sharp retort, as she pleaded for your love and
confidence — "

"But, papa!" wailed Jack. "You don't know everything!
Oh, don't be so hard on me?"

"Now, young man, what is it that I don't know?"

"Papa, I don't think Mis' Florence is a good — "

"You don't think! That's no reason for your prejudice.
Jack, and don't ever let me hear that again. Now, what else?''

Jack felt intuitively that he was on dangerous ground and
changed the subject.

"Papa, when am I ever going to school? You are going
to make a fine man of Arthur."

"And are you jealous? Is that the trouble? I'll send you
to school when you get strong enough to bear the confinement
of a school room. In the meantime try and improve your
manners and disposition. Try to be more like Arthur."

"Like Arthur? He is a coward, a sneak and a thief!" de-
clared Jack. "I don't want to be like him !"

"Jack! Take care!"

"Well, he is!" stoutly. "He has pecked on me every time
he got the chance all the time since he came here, and his
mother knows it. She never tried to stop him, either! And
he and Bud Ingram stole my fish and Uncle Mose's water-
melons— even cut up some of his nicest ones just for pure down-
right meanness!"

"Oh, well, a live, wide-awake boy of Arthur's age is gen-
erally getting into mischief. I never knew a boy who wouldn't
steal a watermelon or rob a fish basket, and think it more
fun than harm."

"I wouldn't do it — I'll never do such things !" declared Jack
hotly.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 27

"Henry, dear! may I go with you?" called "Mrs. Florence"
sweetly, coming toward them with a large sunshade on her
head, and looking -very charming in a dainty pink gingham
dress. It was still quite warm, though the middle of September.

"Certainly, wife, — glad of your company. Am just going
down to the pasture to see after some new pigs," replied Mr.
LeGrande, smiling as he turned to her.

Jack heaved a sigh and walked away, wondering how it
was that he never could have a talk with his father without
being interrupted.

The months rolled by and the breach between father and
son seemed to grow wider and deeper. Jack was naturally
jealous of his father's marked affection for his wife and thought
with an aching heart of the delicate, blue eyed mother beneath
the sod in the family burying ground, across the hill. Hardly
a day passed that he and Joe did not visit her grave. The
lonely child always felt comforted in this sacred spot, as if
indeed his mother's spirit came to him whispering peace to
his troubled heart.

Arthur came home for Xmas, and again in June to spend
vacation. He was developing into a tall, well proportioned
youth, and would have been really handsome, but for the hard
lines around his mouth and the mocking light in his black eyes.
He delighted to tease Jack, when it was convenient and safe,
and took especial pride in talking to him in such brilliant,
high-flown language, that the child's ignorance was awful by
contrast and made him seem almost idiotic. Jack, small, bare-
footed and with overalls on, his pale cheeks, blue eyes and
yellow curls shaded by a big torn straw hat, was quite a contrast
in looks too, to this strong, robust lad in uniform, who was
"too large to go barefooted." Jack, jealous of the difference
and resenting the cause, kept more and more to himself, eating
when and where he could, the bits of lunch fixed for him by
the faithful Dilsie.

Xmas had come the second time, and Arthur was again
home for the holidays, looking still more elegant, with manners
and conversation so refined and polished that even his mother
was astonished. Mr. LeGrande waked up to the difference he
was making in the two boys, and began to grow a bit thoughtful.
Surely it was high time for Jack to be in school. Perhaps that
was just what the lad needed to make him develop aright. He

28 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

recalled the child's words when Arthur was sent away: "Papa
when are you going to send me to school? You are going to
make a fine man of Arthur." His heart smote him. He won-
dered how it was that he had so long neglected his own child.
Thoughts of his first love, the gentle Evelyn, came to him. He
raised his eyes to her portrait that hung on the wall, and it
seemed to him that there was a reproachful look in her big
blue eyes.

"Evelyn, forgive me!" he whispered, going and standing
in front of the portrait, — "Forgive me, dear!"

Just at that moment his wife entered the room. "Oh,
Henry, come and see my Xmas cactus, it is blooming beautifully.
Mose has jUst brought it in from the flower pit," and she
slipped her arm in his and drew him from the room.

That same afternoon, she and Arthur held a whispered
conversation, snatching a few moments alone unnoticed. That
night when all had retired, there was a terrible noise in the
parlor, as of some heavy object falling. All the family were
awakened. Mr. LeGrande rushed from his room and found
Arthur in the hall.

"What was that?" asked Mr. LeGrande.

"Don't know — just ran down to see — was in my room read-
ing; thought it was down here somewhere."

Mr. LeGrade picked up a lamp from the hall table and
entered the parlor just as Jack came rushing down.

CHAPTER IV.

"Ah !" cried Mr. LaGrande in dismay. "How could this have
happened!" and he bent over his dead wife's portrait, utterly
ruined by broken glass, as the wreck lay upon the floor.

"Oh, my beautiful mama!" sobbed Jack, while Mr. Le-
Grande gazed in anguish, mixed with awe and superstition
on the torn canvass.

"That means a death in the family," he at last whispered,
as his wife came in with sweet words or sympathy and many
expressions of sorrow.

From that day the man became moody and silent. He had
examined the cord from which the picture hung, and though
not a detective, could see plainly that it had been cut. Who
would wish to destroy the portrait? His wife did not do it,

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 29

for she was sleeping peacefully by his side. He reproached
himself for thinking of her in connection with the deed, yet
he could not shake it from his mind. He recalled the gleam in
her eyes as she led him away from the picture to see the cactus.
He felt in his heart that there was a traitor in his household,
yet he was ashamed of the thought. How could it be?

* * * *

Jack was highly elated when told that he should go to
school the following September, and thanked his father with
tears in his eyes.

"Papa," he said, "I won't ever be as fine looking as Arthur,
but I'll try to be a good man when I grow up, and — Papa — I
don't tell lies — like Arthur does. He lied last night — he left
his room and went down stairs before the — the accident to
Mama's picture. He told you he was in his room reading
when it fell. He lied!"

"Hush; my boy, hush!" groaned the man. "Why should he
have done such a thing?

"I don't know, Papa, but I do know he lied. But that ain't
nothing — he tells 'em every day. Papa that picture cord never
broke by itself — it was cut. I looked at it good!" asserted the
boy positively.

"Jack( say no more," commanded his father, amazed to
learn that Jack too, was suspicious.

When Arthur again returned to school, the ice slowly
melted between father and son. Strange, that the wreck of
the beautiful portrait should have drawn them toward each
other. "Mis' Florence" ground her teeth in rage and dismay,
as she saw the growing intimacy between the two, and realized
that her power over the man was not so great as in the past.
The fact was, he had accidentally overheard some of her cutting
remarks to Jack once or twice, and was beginning to wonder.

One night Jack had not come in. It was a beautiful moon-
light night in May. Mr. LeGrande walked out to Mose's cabin
and inquired for the child.

"Lawsy massy! Ain't dat chile in bed?- Here it am 10
o'clock!" exclaimed Aunt Dilsie, as she and Uncle Mose both
got out of bed.

"Speck he at Mis' Evelyn's grave ! He allers go dar when
he in trubble!" declared Mose.

30 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"In trouble? What has he got to trouble him?"

"Don't axe me nuttin Marse Henry, — 'corse he ain't orter

had no trubble — poor little lam."

"Mose! tell me this instant — what do you mean, demanded

the man.

"Marse Henry, you's done gone an axe me a hard ques-
tion. I don't lak to tell tales. I — ''

"Well! Shet up den' coward!" retorted Aunt Dilsie. Then
she turned to Mr. LeGrande, determinedly:

"Marse Henry, I'se wanted yo' to open yo' eyes er long
time, an see fer yerself how dat chil's been treated fo' de las'
four year. He's been pecked on by dat brat Arthur an nagged
by dat 'oman twel de chile mighty nigh crazy sometimes. She
been scoldin him today 'twel I mighty ni busted wif madness.
An' he hain't done nuffin, ceptin bring er little mud in de house
on his dead mudder's kyarpet! Yah! I'll tell yo' — dat chile
jes a grievin he se'f to def ; dats what! Bet yo' right now he
lyin' on his mudder's grave,"

Mr. LeGrande waited to hear no more, but ran across the
field and over the hill to the family burying ground. In the
moonlight, the tall cedars cast long dark shadows over the spot.
But one grave was unshadowed — the grave of his dead wife.
Across the mound lay Jack fast asleep, sobbing even yet, and
heaving fitful sighs. By his side lay Joe, one paw thrown pro—
tectingly over the body of his master. Joe raised his head at
the approach of Mr. LeGrande, then wagged his tail in welcome.

The man was about to gather the little form up in his arms,
but stopped to listen : The lad was talking in his sleep :

"Mama, what made you leave me? Come and get me,
Mama ! I can't stay here ! She's mad 'cause Papa is loving me
a little. Come and get me, Mama — I'm so lonesome!" Joe
raised his head and howled a low, heartrending wail. Suddenly
the man bent and stared across the grave. What was that
white misty form gathering there in the shadows? Slowly it
took shape in the man's fancy, and he saw a woman with golden
hair and flowing robes, standing with arms outstretched to
the child. Great beads of perspiration gathered on the man's
forehead.

"Oh, Evelyn, Evelyn, don't take him from me!'' he groaned.
"Forgive me! Forgive me, for neglecting him!" He pressed

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 31

his hands over his eyes, and when he looked again, he saw-
nothing but the white tombstones. Again he felt the present-
ment of coming trouble — felt that soon another grave would
be made. Would it be Jack? Would his prayer be answered?
Kneeling beside the boy he called him.

"Jack, son!" then gathered him up in his arms, the child's
damp curls against his cheek. The boy sighed, opened his
eyes and threw his arms around his father's neck. Then:

"Why, Papa! where am I? Oh! — " as he looked around
and remembered. "She was with me tonight."

"Who, my son?"

"Mama! I didn't see her but I felt her — I know she was
there." The man shuddered.

"Jack, you will catch your death in the night air this way.
Why did you do it? I was so frightened about you." Holding
him closer.

Half way to the house they met "Mis' Florence." "Why,
Henry! what is the matter with the child? Is he dead? Why
do you carry him?" she exclaimed.

"He is not dead. I carry him to ease the ache in my heart,"
he answered curtly, and she wondered uneasily.

Jack was quite feverish next morning. Had taken a deep
cold. His father sent a negro on a fast horse to Rockingham
for a doctor, while he sat by the bed and held the child's flut-
tering hands, never for a moment leaving him.

His wife, more uneasy over the attitude of her husband,
than concerned over Jack's illness, hovered in the background,
near enough to hear the child muttering in his delirium. She
noted the white, stern face and compressed lips of her husband
as he bent to catch the words, and trembled. Once he turned
to her and groaned:

"Oh, Flora, if he dies I'll never forgive myself — or you!
Dear little heart — instead of coming to me with his troubles
he would go to his dead mother and she comforted him!

"I have been blind, but am beginning to see, and henceforth,
I'll know my little one's troubles. God! he shall have none!
Do you hear Flora?" with a determined gleam in his eyes that
she could not mistake.

"Yes, Henry, but I don't understand you."

"Don't you ? Well, study it over, please, and when you have
arrived at a conclusion, try to profit by it," coldly.

32 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Henry, tell me plainly what you mean," demanded his wife.

"I mean that no one shall make my child's life miserable.
I've thought that he shunned us all because of some chilldish
and unreasonable jealousy— that the fault was all his own. How
little I understood !"

"Henry, do you mean to insinuate that I have mistreated
your child?''' and the low voice trembled. Her pretty hands
were pressed to her heart and her black eyes, wide in pained
surprise were full of tears, as she came and knelt beside him.
"Heaven is my witness — I have faithfully tried to win his
affections — I have never been unkind to him ! Oh — Henry, you
have wronged me ! The child has never liked me, and has always
misconstrued my motives in everything."

"Joe, old boy!" murmured the boy, and the man turned
from his wife and bent to listen, while the dog lying at his feet,
rose hastily, whined and stood up, his paws on the bed, and
no one objected.

"Joe, old boy! Papa don't know, and we can't tell him.
We mustn't be tattle tales. Poor Papa! Fix me a bag lunch,
Mammy Dilsie, — Me and Joe will have a picnic in the meadow
and feed the birds. We won't dirty her white table cloth, or
bring any mud in the hall — we'll just stay out of the way, Joe —
you and me."

"Oh, God!" groaned the man in anguish, and "Mis' Florence"
was so glad that the doctor came in at that time, and checked
the words that rose to her husband's lips. The doctor glanced
approvingly at the tearful woman as she rose from her knees,
and thought that she certainly must be a most wonderful step-
mother, to be so concerned over this sick lad.

"Never mind, Joe, — old boy, we are going to school, me and
you; and we are going to have uniforms, too! And we'll grow
so big and strong they can't call us 'delicate' any more — and
we'll always be good, Joe, just as Mama told me," continued
the boy.

The doctor sat down and began his examinatons.

"Pneumonia," he said, very gravely. "But as we are on the
job early, I think we can break it up by fighting hard.

"Doctor, you must stay right here — you must not leave.
Money is no object, now that my child's life is in danger."

"But I have other patients — "

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 33

"You shall not leave !" interrupted the father. "Write any
instructions you please to your assistant— I'll send a negro
with any message for you— you shall not leave my boy !"

And the father had his way — the doctor stayed almost all
the time. Even in delirium, Jack shrank as if frightened, from
the touch of his stepmother, and tossed his head fretfully when
she spoke to him in low, tender, caressing tones.

"It is very strange that he becomes irritated when his
mother is around," mused the doctor. "But, then, sick people
have strange fancies, and it is often best to humor them." Then
to Mrs. LeGrande: "It might be well for you to stay out of
the room, madam, for a day or two, and let's see if he will
become more quiet," said the doctor early one morning.

"I don't see how I can bear to be banished, but will submit
to anything for the dear child's sake," she murmured resignedly.
"You will come to me often, and let me know how he is?" she
pleaded, looking into the doctor's face with tear-dimmed eyes.

"Certainly, madam," and the doctor led her to the door.
"I'm sorry to send you out, but feel that I must humor my patient.
You understand, dear lady, and will feel no resentment I know."

"Do you think he will die?" she whispered when she had
reached the door. "Must I send for Arthur to come home?"

"I can't tell yet, dear madam, but, while there's life there's
hope. No, don't send for your son."

"No, indeed!" supplemented Mr. LeGrande.

The lady made her way to the kitchen, where Aunt Dilsie
was busy among pots and pans, her eyes expressing a dumb,
helpless agony. Uncle Mose, too, was drooping in one corner,
his gray head bowed in his wrinkled hands. Both faithful hearts
were wrung with anguish. The falling of the portrait meant
a death in the family, and each believed that little Jack would
soon be lying by the young mother, whose memory he seemed to
cherish more and more, as he grew older.

"Mis' Florence" looked from one to the other, her lips
tightly drawn in a determined line across her white teeth.

"What kind of tales have you two been telling your master?"
she demanded threateningly. Dilsie's round face took on an
expression of innocent surprise. Mose raised his head and
stared at her a moment then blurted out :

"Now, fo' de Lawd's sake, Mis' Florence, what am yo' talkin

34 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

about? We doan know nuffin to tell to Marse, now does we?
'Clare to heben, I ain't tole him no lies, an' Dilsie hain't nudder,
if dat what you mean."

"I'll catch up with you — you impudent black apes! You
can't fool me! Some of these days I'll have you leaving here!"

"Ah! Not quite so fast Florence!" spoke a quiet voice
behind her, and turning she looked into the pale, stern face of
her husband.

"Oh, Henry, forgive me, but these servants of yours have
been humored so long, and have done as they pleased, until
they are really trifling. Of course, I only meant to scare them
a bit. Just see what frightful disorder! Everything should
have been in perfect order more than an hour ago," she
faltered.

"That's all right, Florence. It makes no difference about
the disorder of the kitchen. Their hearts are good and true and
in the right place: God bless 'em! They'll never leave here.
That's a settled fact." Then to Dilsie:

"The doctor wants you and Mose to take it turn about and
stay with Jack. The child wants his black mammy — and — "

"Bless mah honey lam! — I'se gwine dis berry minite!"
cried Aunt Dilsie, jerking off her big gingham apron, hurriedly
pinning on a snowy white one, and dashing from the room.

"Me, too!" and Uncle Mose sprang up like a young panther,
but his master stopped him :

"Not now, Mose, but later. Go for your married daughter,
Sallie, and tell her to come and take charge of this kitchen.
And Mose, don't you ever worry about having to leave here—
it will never happen. Filed away in the court house at Rock-
ingham is a deed giving you and Dilsie your house and 25 acres
of land lying back of it," patting the old man's hand reassuringly.

"Oh, Marse Henry — " exclaimed Mose tearfully, "I'se — "

"Not a word of thanks, Mose, — it's no more than is just
and r'ght. Go on and bring Sallie!" And all the time Mis'
Florence stood unnoticed, her authority and wishes completely
ignored, — even her presence seemingly forgotten, by her lord
and master.

When Mose had gone Mr. LaGrande turned to leave the
room, and was confronted by his wife:

"Henry! for heaven's sake, tell me what has come between
us? How have I lost my place in your heart? Why do you

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 35

insult me before your servants, ignoring my right to adjust
matters as I see fit? Wouldn't it have been nicer of you to
have consulted my wishes about installing Sallie in the kitchen ?"
"My dear lady, I beg your pardon, but it seems to me that
all the cogwheels of the universe have slipped. Everything is
wrong. Since finding that the woman to whom I gave my heart
and name is altogether unworthy of both, is it strange if I
assume that she has forfeited all right to direct my household?
Florence, I loved you for what' I thought you were — not what
I've found you to be." Taking a letter from his pocket he handed
it to her with a mocking bow, saying:

"I thought it was addressed to me, and all too late I found
that it was to 'Mrs.' instead of Mr. Henry LeGrande." Then
he left her and returned to the bedside of little Jack.

The proud woman sank limply into a chair, her face white
as death and her hands trembling. Slowly and with eyes wide
with horror, she drew the letter from the envelope and read:

"Danville, Va.
"Well, Dear Flo :

"How are you getting along with your clodhopper hubby?
Any chance of your being a rich widow soon? Don't see how
you can stand it out in the country with nowhere to go to pass
off time. I guess the stepson is a nuisance all right, but as
you say he is very sick, maybe he'll make his exit to celestial
regions and leave you in complete possession. I know the 'old
man' is like dough in your hands and that you'll have no trouble
getting hold of the estate — you were always so charming and
fascinating. We can safely believe you will shuffle the cards to
suit yourself, and play a winning game in the end. Good luck
to you — especially as we are in need of some of the adorable
greenback. Your loving sister,

"Dora"

Though pale as death, as she saw her ruin, the woman made
no outcry. Already, her fertile brain was trying to devise some
/means of escape from this terrible net of evidence. A bitter
smile curled her lips as she gazed from the window.

"What a cruel prank of fate ! I'll never be able to make him
believe that I really do truly love him for himself alone, now
when I have lost him! Life is a hard game at best! Oh, if I

36 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

had one more chance, I'd try to be all that his great heart
believes me to be. God help me!"

Sallie walked in briskly and deposited a little pickanniny
on the floor, in the spot of sunshine that came through the
window.

"And how is lil' Marse Jack, mam?" she asked.

"'Very, very sick, Sallie. Mammy Dilsie is to help nurse
him and you are to look after things in her place."

"Yas'm — I'se done hearn all erbout dat, an' Fse gwine ter
be right here long es Marse Henry needs me," and the bright,
clean, capable Sallie proceeded to don Dilsie's big work apron,
while confusing thoughts chased each other through the throb-
bing brain of the woman who watched her, and felt that she
was completely left out of the arrangements.

Mis' Florence left the room presently and Sallie shook the
rolling pin at her retreating figure:

"Yah! you'd run mah poor ole daddy an' mammy offen dis
place would ye, Mis' Stuck Upity? But you ain't got no deed
to dis plantation yit!" and Sallie, proceeded to business with
surprising vim and energy. She was the only living child of
Mose and Dilsie, and she had already begun to speculate as to
what their newly acquired property meant for her. Sallie gave
her baby a piece of bread and said:

"Yes, honey! dat triflin' daddy o' yorn '11 be turnin up
soon's he hear de news, but we gwine ter make him eat dirt
'fore we takes him in again. He's a good niggah in some ways,
but he des ain't got no henergy an amnition, and he got to git
some 'fore he lays any claim to a inch ob de LeGran' plantation."

Upstairs, Aunt Dilsie crooned lullabies to her "honey lam,"
who smiled peacefully even in delirium as he clung to the old
wrinkled black hand that had nursed and caressed him all his life.

It was the hour of change, for better or worse; and the
child had ceased to struggle, or talk.

Mose knelt outside the door, his old gray head bowed to the
floor, as he softly prayed in his quaint, superstitious way, for
the Death Angel to pass on by. The doctor sat with grave face
and twitching lips where he could watch every fluttering breath
of his patient. The heart-broken father bent eagerly, yet de-
spairingly over the sufferer, moistening the dry lips and whis-
pering over and over:

"Oh, God! Forgive me and spare my boy!"

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 37

Joe squatted by the bed and whined piteously, as he closely
watched his little master and occasionally placed his forepaws
on the bed caressing the little hot hand with his pink tongue.

Presently the doctor sprang to his feet and stepped quickly
to the bed, and placed his finger on the child's pulse.

"Oh ! mah honey lam ! Don't go !" Aunt Dilsie wailed out,
slipping to her knees, and old Mose fell sobbing into the room.
A groan of anguish burst from the lips of the father, for the
little hands began to flutter and the lips to twitch as if struggling
for breath and speech.

"Hush — s — h!" warned the doctor, "I think the crisis has
passed — he is better!"

"joe — old — boy!" came a faint voice from the pillow, and
the father lifted the dog on the bed and placed one little hand
on the dog's head, as he stammered through sobs.

"Thank God! oh, thank God!"

"Papa ! — "and the blue eyes opened and for a moment looked
at those around him in puzzled surprise. Then putting his arm
around Joe's neck, he heaved a deep sigh and dropped into a
peaceful, life-giving sleep.

"Yes — thank God, he will be all right now!" declared the
doctor, joyously, while tears of thankfulness rolled down the
cheeks of Henry LeGrande and the two faithful servants.

CHAPTER V.

"Jack is better! He will live, Flora!" exclaimed Henry
LeGrande, rushing to his wife with the good news, his great
strong heart melted with tenderness, love and thankfulness
for God's goodness, a feeling that for the moment blotted out
all else, and made him forget the bitterness that had lately
rankled in his breast.

"I am glad! Oh, so glad, Henry, though you may not be-
lieve me!" and she threw her arms around his neck and burst
into tears. The man remembered, turned pale and gazed over
her head and out of the window, as he placed one arm lightly
around her.

"Henry! I love you now — for yourself alone.

"I confess that at first I married you to get a home for
myself and boy, but I've learned to love you — I didn't know how
much until you grew cold toward me."

38 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"And what of my boy? What of my child that has starved
for love and sympathy while we both forgot his very existence?
What of my baby, who has been made to feel himself a nuisance
and an incumbrance in his own home; who has been jealous,
and rightly so, over the difference made between him and your
son? God — !" pushing her from him and shuddering.

"Henry, am I alone to blame? If you did not understand
your own child, how could I? He disliked me from the very
first, and made my position a very difficult one. I tried to win
him — you know I did — and you, yourself, finally told me to
let him alone, and I did so. I'm willing to bear my share of
the blame, but don't judge me too harshly, and forget your
own negligence," she earnestly pleaded. "Henry, forgive me,
and help me to be all that you thought me. I love you and I
want to be a good woman and a true wife to you."

"What about that letter?" sadly. "And the 'old man who
is like dough in your hands?' "

"Henry, I don't know why Dora wrote as she did, and I
make no excuses for her or myself. I only know that I love you,
and that I've never known how much until now." She watched
his changing countenance, eagerly waiting for the psychological
moment when he would yield.

"Husband, God has been good, and let us keep little Jack.
Can you afford to hold bitterness in your heart toward one who
is deeply repentant and pleads earnestly to be forgiven? Oh!
you have never loved me — or you could not be so cruel to me
now — oh — Henry!" and she turned toward the door, tears
streaming down her cheeks, and hands pressed over her heart.

"Flora !" she paused, and leaned against the door.

"Wife!" she turned and with a joyful cry rushed into his
outstretched arms. For a moment neither spoke. Then the
man stooped and kissed the woman's tears away and whispered :

"We'll let by-gones be by-gones, and begin anew!" Later,
when alone the woman found herself hard to understand.

"I wonder if I really do care for him?" she mused. "Any-
how, I'm glad he has forgiven me. I can't bear his cold, stern
reproach. I believe if Jack would let me, I'd try, for Henry's
sake, to be a true mother to him. Anyhow, I must be sure to
manage so the will won't be changed. If Jack had gone on to

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 39

his sainted mother, all my troubles would have been over. But —
well — I'm hard to beat when I set my head! We'll see!"

Jack recovered rapidly, and there was great rejoicing among
the blacks on the plantation. Joe never left his side, and Mis'
Florence allowed him free run of the house, much to Jack's
amazement. Then, too, she lavished every possible attention on
the little fellow. He always found fresh flowers in his room,
pretty picture books on his table, choice delicacies at his plate
to tempt his appetite and other things that made him wonder,
while his father's face took on a happy, peaceful expression that
was good to see.

But, there was a sore spot in Henry LeGrande's heart that
never entirely healed. Faith and trust, once shaken from its
foundation, can never be rebuilt into the same strong and beau-
tiful structure, and there were times when, in spite of himself,
the man questioned his wife's sincerity. There was one great
question ever present with him. Should he happen to die, could
he safely trust his child to the guardianship of his wife, and
feel assured that he would get a square deal? He could never
answer that question satisfactorily, and he writhed under the
uncertainty.

Jack had fully recovered when the terrible thing happened
that made him an orphan, indeed. The occurrence was toa sad
and harrowing to dwell upon, and we will hurry over it.

It was early in June when Henry LeGrande was killed in
a run-away, as he was returning from Rockingham. The neigh-
bors all declared that they never had witnessed such heart-
rending grief as that of Jack, when the mangled form of his dead
father was brought home on a stretcher, and the wife seemed
almost bereft of reason. She p-athered his coat, in her arms and
sobbed over it unrestrainedly, when it was tenderly taken from
the body by kind friends who had hastily gathered in. Later,
when she was persuaded to go to her own room and lie down,
she still clung to the soiled and bloody coat. Those good men
would have been shocked had they seen with what eagerness she
went through the pockets when left alone.

Henry LeGrande was buried by the side of his wife — his
first love; and sorrowing friends turned away from the flower-
covered mound, with wonder and awe in their hearts.

The incident of the falling portrait had been aired by the

40 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

superstitious blacks, and these simple country folks, thoroughly
believing in "signs," were deeply impressed.

Arthur had, of course, come home; and, as the sad occur-
rence was only a few days before commencement, he did not
return. After the funeral was over Mis' Florence sent for the
family lawyer, and had him bring all her husband's private
papers.

The lawyer came, and in the presence of a few neighbors
and all the plantation negroes, gave Mose a deed to his cabin
and the twenty-five acre lot back of it, and read the will.

It was found that a small sum had been placed in the bank
for Jack until he should become of age. Arthur, too, was pro-
vided for in the same way, and the plantation was unreservedly
given "to my beloved wife, Florence LeGrande, who is to have
absolute and complete possession, and full control of all my
property, and the guardianship of my child, Jack A. LeGrande,
who I know will be liberally provided for at her hands."

Jack, after one wild look around the room, slipped to the
floor, weeping as if his heart would break. The sullen silence
of the blacks as they gazed on the stricken child, showed their
indignation plainer than words could have done.

There were no relatives interested enough to come forward
and fight for the child's right and though there was, for a few
days, much wonder and speculation, the neighbors had a way
of "minding their own business," and were all soon busy "laying-
by" their big "bottom corn," accepting the declaration of old
Tom Ingram, that "Henry LeGrande was a bigger fool than we
thought, But, I recon' he had the right to do with his own just
as he pleased!"

"Papa didn't intend it — I know he didn't," cried Jack out
in Mose's cabin. "That very morning when he went to Rock-
ingham, he said to me: "Son, I feel that something is going to
happen to me — and I can't rest till I get things fixed right!"

"But honey, de lawyer say he wuz outten town dat day,
and so Marse neber done no fixin, more'n he'd already done.
Debbel take dat 'oman ! Hit's all her doin's !"

"Yah ! an dey's alreddy puttin on airs !" declared Dilsie,
stroking Jack's head. "Dat brat Arthur done 'gin to strut wid
importance, an him an Mis' Florence des seem lak dey ain't

ON'iY A FACTORY BOY. 41

got no trubbles at all. Honey lam/ doan you cry. Hit's gwine
ter come out right in de end."

"Arthur has already begun to pick at me an' Miss Florence
ain't so kind as she was before — before — oh! Mammy, why
didn't you all let me die?"

"Lil Marse — doan cry dat way — please doan ! It des erbout
bus' me open — I des can't stan' it, Lil' Marse. Mose an' Dilsie'll
stick to you' honey, long as we got bref , an de good Marster up
in heven an't gwine ter let no orphin suffer. Hit des gotter
cum out right, honey, kase God gwine ter unkiver de sins o' de
wicked what bin a prosecutin' His lil lam!"

"Yah! Glory to His name!" chanted Aunt Dilsie. Mose
looked toward her a little uneasy. More than once she had
beaten him almost to death while shouting, and he had no desire
to work on her emotions until they got the best of her, so he
changed the subject. Going to the door he glanced at the sun
that was low in the West:

"Hoopee! milkin' time! Come on, lil Marse — I'se des got
de bestes tale to tell yo' while we git de feed mixed fur de
cows!" and presently Mose and Jack were in the barn, and
though the child's face was pale and his eyes sad, Uncle Mose
had stopped his tears. Both were busy with hoes, stirring
and mxing a great pile of cut feed for the cows, when Arthur
came in smoking a cigarette.

"Better be careful, Arthur — you might drop a spark and set
the barn afire," said Jack.

Arthur leaned against the door facing and looked at Jack
contemptuously.

"Well, if I should burn the whole darn thing up it wouldn't
be any loss to you, would it?"

"I don't know — it might be!" returned Jack, stirring the
feed more vigorously.

"Gee! you're not such a fool as to try to contest the will,
I hope? Now wouldn't that be fun?" taking the cigarette from
his mouth and blowing smoke through his nose. Then he
continued :

"Mother is one more peach. We didn't know though that
the falling of the sainted one's portrait would mean the governor's
death," musingly.

42 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"You cut that cord!" hissed Jack between clenched teeth,
his blue eyes black with passion and his face chalky white as
he leaned forward.

"Boys, boys!" mildly protested Mose.

"Ha! ha! Did I? Anything- to oblige the best of mothers,
who — " but the sentence was never finishel. With one quick
and powerful stroke of the sharp hoe, Jack felled him to the
floor, his head split horribly and the life blood gushing forth in
torrents.

"Oh, my Gawd! Oh, my Gawd, honey! You done killed
him! Lawd in heben — oh; honey dey'll hang yo' chile! and I
promist your dyin' Ma I'd take keer o' you!" wailed old Mose
falling to his knees.

Jack still held the bloody hoe in his hands and looked with
horror-stricken eyes on the still form of his step-brother. The
blood froze in his veins and he stood rooted to the spot, unable
to move.

"Honey, git outten here an' go hide in de cane brake. I'll
come to you atter dark an' tell yo' what to do. Git out! Fo'
Gawd's sake, go ! Git dar on de sly — yo' an' Joe. I'll tend to dis —
oh — chile, go!" and Mose laid the bloody hoe by Arthur's head
as Jack with a groan of agony slipped through the back door
and with Joe at his heels ran down between rows of rank corn,
to the river.

The sun had set and darkness had settled. Jack with his
face buried in his hands sat trembling with guilt and fear in
the thick cane brakes, and Joe tried vainly to comfort hirn.

"Hi, dar!" came a muffled voice.

"Here I am, Mose — me and Joe! Is he dead?" And Jack
ran forward in the darkness and fell sobbing at the old man's
feet. "Oh, don't tell me he is dead sure enough!"

"Honey, de doctah hadn't cum yit when I lef — but doan you
worry, he had a little pulse. Mis' Florence des ravin lak a
'stracted 'oman an' a scremin' wid ever bref."

"Oh !" shuddered the boy. "I wish I was dead! Did

you tell 'em, Mose?"

"No, honey! No! I dashed de feed to de cows, den went to
de house an told Mis' Florence dat as my hand wuz so sore you
wuz gwine ter milk fur me, an' she low 'well, dat's all right.'
Atter little while she cum back to de kitchen an she say : 'Ain't

•

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 43

dat triflin boy brung de milk in yit,' an I say, 'No, mam, it takes
a long time to milk dem two fine cows.'

" 'Bout dat time de han's rive from de field an directly we
hearn 'em a hollerin out at de barn. Dat cussed niggah Sam,
come a rollin an tumblin ober heself into de kitchen, his eyes a
bulgin out an he wuz yellin: 'Gawd a-mighty, Mistes, Marse
Arfur daid in de barn — hes hed busted wide open!"

"Den we all went runnin to de barn, an dar he lay, honey,
des lak he drapped. Mis' Florence screamed out dat you wuz
de mudderer, an den she drapped rat across de body an died
away an we ha to tote her to de house. Honey, I ain't goin to
tell nuffin. Dey cain't make me witness gin you. I'll swear to
lies 'fore I'll say you done it! I node I hatter do somethin,
so I tole 'em I'd bring de neighbors, an I run atter de Ingrams
an de Jacksonses. Bud Ingram say it's a wonder you hadn't
done it long ergo !

"Well, den, I des stood aroun' an' waited an' listened an'
tried to ketch on. Marse Tom Ingram, he same as er doctah,
and he 'low maybe it ain't bad as it looks, an' he pore a few
draps of whiskey in Arthur's mouth, but he didn't swaller.
Honey, de sheriff'll be huntin ye tomorrow, an' you mus' get
away fum here.

"I'se brung yo' coat and somethin' to eat, and honey, roll
down yer stockin." Old Mose pushed up the boy's knee pants,
pulled down his stocking and slipped something flat down inside.

"Dar, now! Dat won't show, an nobody won't think of
robin ye!" he said fastening the stocking back up.

"What is it, Uncle Mose?" asked Jack.

"Des a lil present frum me and Dilsie, honey — you'll find it
handy in yo' trabels. Be keerful wid it." Later Jack found that
the present was two five-dollar bills.

"Now, honey, I des hatter put you an Joe in a boat an'
leave yo' in de hands o' de Lawd! De dams done busted out
at de mill, an you kin go er long ways des a floatin. You kin
float all night."

"Oh, Mose, won't I ever see you an Mammy Dilsie any
more?" sobbed Jack. "I don't want to go an leave you! I'll
go back — I don't care what they do to me!"

"Honey lam! we's gwine ter meet sum day right here
on dis earf, an eberthing gwine ter be all smoothed over by de

44 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

hand o' de Lawd! Dilsie say go an' Gawd bless yo' hart — it
all gwine ter come out lak de good Lawd wants it to !"

"But it can't come out right ! I'm a murderer !" wailed Jack.

"No you ain't ! No, you ain't — he ain't daid honey ! don't you
believe it !" snorted Mose trying to encourage the boy. "But it's
des dis way, honey, Miss Florence got it in fo' yo, and de
bes' thing to do is to hit de grit." After much persuasion,
coaxing and threatening, Jack and Joe entered a light boat that
Mose had hidden, and the old man shoved it far out into the
stream after straining boy and dog to his faithful if erring
heart, in a tearful, prayerful, goodbye.

But Arthur did not die! He was soon able to give his
mother an account of what had happened, and both agreed to
do nothing whatever with Jack. He was gone and that was
better. A trial might bring investigations and complications.
For certain reasons, Mis' Florence wished to avoid publicity as
much as possible.

Mose was frantic. He had sent Jack away in haste, and
had made no plans for hearing from him. The child might
drown — but no — he could swim like a duck, and no one could
harm him, with Joe as a bodyguard. He had declared from the
first that he knew nothing about Jack's leaving, and now he must
stick to it! The old man was sore beset, and Dilsie's pillow
was nightly wet with tears. Where was her "honey lam !"

The neighbors, too, made diligent inquiry concerning the
missing lad. Some even suggested foul play, but there was no
evidence. Joe was gone — so was the boy — surely they were
together.

"I don't think Jack will dare to come back! We are rid
of him for good and all,' I believe. I'm tired of having people
call to make inquiries concerning him, and we've got to have
some news to give them, so they'll stop," said the widow to her
son as she dressed his head. "It's been three weeks, now, since
he left, and it's time we were getting a letter," she smiled.
"Well, I'll have one next time Bud Ingram comes around ! He'll
spread the news!"

Arthur looked at hs mother in quick comprehension and nod-
ded:

"I'll swear!" he whispered. "Mother, you do beat the devil!"

"Arthur!"

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 45

"Well, you do ! You're a wonder !" She smiled over the doubt-
ful compliment, then took a letter from her bosom, and laid it in
his hands. He read :

Danville, Va..
"Dear Mother :

"I am with your sister, who tells me that dear Arthur is not
dead after all. I am truly thankful and beg that you will both
forgive the rash act that almost wrecked my life.

"I don't want to return home, though. I want to enter
school here and hope you will make all necessary arrangements.
Aunt Dora says I may stay with her, and I know I'll love her —
she is so like you.

"I'm sorry I ran away — I'm sorry for everything." Arthur
laughed.

"Pretty good far as it goes, mother, but you'd better put in
a message for Mose and Dilsie, to make it ring true."

"Yes, of course ! Here, let me add a few more lines ! How's
this?" and she read:

"Tell Mammy Dilsie and Uncle Mose that I miss them just
awful, but I'm going to stay away and get an education and
come back when I am grown and take care of them in their old
age.

"Aunt Dora is writing for me.

"Jack.

"That's fine!" declared Arthur, and it will stop people's
tongues, I hope.''

"Yes, and as soon as you are able to travel we are going
to visit dear Jack, and get him fixed in school!" she answered.

"You seem sure that he won't turn up."

"I am sure that he will not," she answered.

Bud Ingram called that same evening to see Arthur, and to
inquire about Jack. The letter was read to him with much
rejoicing and the plans for "dear little Jack's future" were dis-
cussed at length.

"No wonder the poor child ran away," declared his step-
mother. "He thought he had actually killed Arthur." Bud
didn't say he thought it very strange that Jack should go to
her people in his trouble, but he thought it.

46 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

When the letter was read to Uncle Mose and Aunt Dilsie,
the two old servants looked at each other in consternation, but
said not a word. Later Uncle Mose saw Bud Ingram and asked :

"I guess you'se studied gejogfry some, ain't yo' — dat skule
book what tells whar sich an sich a place is? Well, is dis here
Danville, Virginy, up Norf er down Souf?"

"Up North," answered Bud. Uncle Mose later told Aunt
Dilsie that:

"Dat letter des a blankety blank lie — lil Marse went down
de riber to de Souf."

Bud, of course, told every one that Jack had been heard
from, and everything turned out as the widow planned.

CHAPTER VI.

"Mister, please give me a job in your mill.''

The superintendent of one of Georgia's most progressive
mills raised his head, and his round, genial face took on a look
of surprise and interest. Just outside the open window under
the trellis of June roses which shaded it, was a small boy in
travel-stained clothes and big torn straw hat and by his side
a large dog with forepaws resting on the window sill. The man
smiled.

'Want a job for your dog, too?" he asked.

"Yes, sir!" came the eager reply.

"Well, come in, and we'll talk about it," said the superln-
dent; and boy and dog went round to the door and entered.
Mr. Nixon turned in his revolving chair, and motioned the boy
to a seat near him, while he took a very close look at his
visitors.

The dusty traveler sank wearily into the padded chair but
his eyes were round with wonder and amazement as they took
in the magnificent furnishing of the office. The dog squatted
by his master's side, panting with the heat.

The superintendent saw something strangely appealing in
the slender figure, drooping mouth and pathetic blue eyes. He
must see that this little fellow was sent back to his mother,
he thought.

"So you want a job. Ever work in a mill?"

"No, sir — never saw in one — but I can learn."

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 47

"Where are you from? Don't live here, do you?"

"Mister, I ain't got no home, nor nobody but Joe."

"Where are your parents?"

"Both dead," and the lad's lips quivered.

"There, there! What is your name, my boy?" very kindly.

"Jack Armstrong-." Armstrong was Jack's middle name
and something prompted him to use it.

"Jack, you have run away from some one, haven't you?
Tell me everything, child, just as if I were your fathei.

The boy's heart gave a thankful bound. He felt that here
was a good true friend. Still he was afraid.

"Mister, I couldn't get along with my stepmother and — and
— her son/' he faltered.

Ah, I see. I had a stepmother, too, Jack, but she was a
good woman and a good mother to me. Are you sure you are
not to blame?"

"I would have loved her if I could, but she wasn't good — she
always hated me. After papa died — I — I was just in the way,
so me an' Joe left. Please let me work."

John Baxter, who kept the mill boarding house and ran the
"Company farm," had come in quietly and was listening with
interest to the conversation.

"You are too small to work. You ought to be in school,"
continued Mr. Nixon. Jack's lips quivered piteously.

• "Please, sir, I'm fourteen, and I must have work. I met
a boy down the road, and we got to talk in' an' he said he knew
you would give me a chance. Mister, we ain't had a thing to
eat today," and Jack gulped down a sob.

"Good heavens! Child, you are hungry!" and the superin-
tendent grabbed a telephone from his desk.

"Hello! Give me Jones' Restaurant. That you Jones?
Yes? Well, send a dandy good lunch to my office at once —
plenty for a small hungry boy and a big dog. Hurry, please."

Jack's eyes became round with wonder as he gazed on this
amazing bit of performance. He had never before seen a tele-
phone. A thousand questions surged tc his lips, but he held
them in check and waited.

In a very short time a colored boy wearing an immaculate
suit of white duck and cap to match, conspicuously labeled
"Jones' Restaurant," hurried in with a large covered waiter

48 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

which he politely handed to Mr. Nixon, who took it and dis-
missed him. Then placing the waiter on his desk, he lifted
the snowy cloth and said :

"Here you are Jack! Nice juicy ham, eggs, muffins, rolls,
potato salad, milk and peach pie — and lots of it. Now, you and
Joe sail in." Jack rose eagerly.

"Thank you, sir. You sure are good," he said.

A big newspaper was spread on the carpet, on which was
placed a generous meal for Joe, the dog waiting patiently and
politely until told to eat. In the meantime the superintendent
and Mr. Baxter were holding a consultation in the bookkeeper's
office.

"There's something about the boy that makes me want to
trust him and ask no questions," said Mr. Nixon. "He doesn't
look as if he's had a square deal."

"Strikes me the same way," declared Baxter. "But he's
so little to be tryin' to 'paddle his own canoe." Baxter had no
idea that the boy had been "paddling a canoe!"

"That was the best meal me an' Joe ever had, I guess, an'
we thank you." Turning to Joe he said: "Thank the gentle-
man, Joe," and the dog immediately stood on his hind legs,
nodded his head vigorously and yelped.

"Nice dog," smiled Mr. Nixon.

"But you ain't said I could work," appealed Jack.

"Child, you can't make enough in the mill to support your-
self aim dog. You ought not to have brought him. Perhaps
you can sell him." Jack looked frightened :

"Sell Joe! Oh, no sir. He's all I got in the world, now.
I'll work night and day for his keep." Then turning to the dog
who sat and listened with an intelligent expression in his big
brown eyes :

"Joe, what would you do without me?" Instantly the dog
fell as if shot, groaned and stretched out stiff as if dead, while
the surprised superintendent and Mr. Baxter looked on with
interest.

"That's all right, Joe, we'll stay together," and the dog
sprang up wagging his tail joyously.

"Now pray that we shan't ever be parted," commanded
Jack, and Joe went to a chair, squatted before it, put his paws
together, bowed his head on them, groaned and whined in such a

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 49

heart-rending way that Mr. Nixon, caught himself swallowing
a lump in his throat.

"Well, I'll swigger!" exclaimed Baxter.

"Beats anything I ever saw. Don't blame you Jack — he's
worth his weight in gold," declared Mr. Nixon. "But what's
to be done? I don't know what to do."

"Say!" said Baxter. "You give the boy a job an' I'll keep
him an' his dog if he'll help me nights and mornings around
the barn. I like the kid an' I like his dog. I believe they will
both make good."

Jack listened eagerly for the superintendent's reply.

"No doubt he would be quite a help to you after he gets
stronger," mused Mr. Nixon. "We'll take him on, then. It's
about stopping time now," looking at his watch. "He can come
back in the morning and I'll see what can be done for him. In
the meantime we must watch the papers and see if he is adver-
tised."

As Jack trudged along by the side of Mr. Baxter, he thought
he had never seen a rougher, uglier man. He wore a dirty suit
of overalls, just like the farmers at home wore. His stumpy
beard of three week's growth was streaked with gray, and his
nose was entirely too large. His hands were rough and knotty,
ins shoulders were very stooped and his legs were badly warped.
His only redeeming feature was a pair of the kindest gray eyes
that looked with charity and sympathy on the whole world.

Just then the 6 o'clock whistle blew and Jack gazed on the
stream of workers that poured from the mill at the foot of the
hill, a sight he had never seen before, and which interested
him greatly. The sun was still high in the heaven, and from
Baxter Heights, as the boarding house was called, a picture of
the whole village was plainly seen. Baxter pointed out the
"Super's" house, the two nice churches, the Y. M. C. A. hall,
the big graded school house and other points of interest. The

town of A was on the other side of the valley, and could

be reached by electric car line.

The big boarding house, full to overflowing, almost frighten-
ed our timid Jack. Tired, fussy and fat, Mrs. Baxter almost
finished him when she declared she had no place for the "little
tramp" and she certainly was not going to have that "villainous
looking dog around." Jack's heart quaked with fear and he

JACK AND JOE

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 51

shrank behind Mr. Baxter who whispered reassuringly, and gave
him an affectionate slap on the shoulder:

"Never mind, son, — her bark's worse'n her bite. She'll soon
be the best friend you an' Joe's got. She has so much to do that
her temper is kinder frazzled sometimes, but she's the best
woman in the world," and the little man motioned for Jack to
follow him to the barn.

When they reached the big barn in which was housed the
company stock and feed, Baxter suddenly had an inspiration and
said"

"Jack, if you ain't afraid, an' being as it's warm weather,
we might arrange for you to sleep here in the barn till we get
some room in the house. Emily says she ain't got a inch of
room nowhere. I didn't know that when I said I'd take you,''
apologized the man.

"I ain't afraid nowhere with Joe, and I'd a sight rather stay
out here," declared Jack, shuddering over the thought of Mrs.
Baxter's sharp tongue.

Baxter consulted with his fifteen-year-old daughter, Nellie,
who was in the barn looking for eggs, and she soon agreed with
him that the little harness room in one corner of the barn could
be easily converted into quite a respectable bed-room. All went
to work with a will, and the room was soon cleared out. The
racks were transferred to one side of the barn and the gear
and harness hung thereon.

A discarded single bed that had been packed in the wood-
shed was put up, and well furnished from the house. A dry
goods box was converted into a wash stand with white oilcloth
cover, and on this was placed a covered galvanized waterbucket,
wash pan and dipper. Over it was hung a cracked looking glass
and a little case holding comb and brush.

Mr. Baxter was happy as a boy as he emerged again from
the wood-house with a small table, stool and a chair. Then
standing at the door with his warped legs very far apart and
hands thrust deep into his pockets, he surveyed the little room.

"Seems like somethin's lackin' yet," he mused.
"Yes. Soap and towels," said Nellie.
"That's it! Go and get 'em, girlie." Nellie ran out to do
his bidding, and Baxter exclaimed :

"Say, Jack, some of these days when I get a chance, I'll

52 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

mend up your furniture and give it a coat of paint." And the
boy smiled delightedly.

At the foot of the bed a mat was placed for Joe which
pleased Jack as much as his own bed did.

When Nellie returned with the soap and towels, she also
brought a little Waterbury alarm clock. After showing Jack
how to wind and set it, she hung it on the wall, saying :

"Jack, I like you and Joe, and I want you to get on the
good side of mother; and you can do it if you'll try. She has
lots to do. Our cook doesn't sleep here, and mother always
rises at 4:30 and makes a fire in the range ready for her.
Perhaps you can do that — and draw some fresh water before
breakfast.''

"Oh, yes, Miss Nellie, I'll be glad to do that, Tell vour
mother she needn't get up — I'll have the fire ready — only you
must show me how to get in, and where to find things," replied
Jack, happy over the thought that perhaps he really could earn
his keep, and Joe's, if he worked hard.

"Is there a place anywhere close where I can go in bath-
in'?" asked Jack as he thought with a pang at his heart of
the beautiful Pee Dee, where he and Joe had so often gone
swimming.

"Why, yes, there's a rfice swimmin' pool down the creek,
a piece — an' we've got a bath room at the house which you can
use," replied Mr. Baxter. "If you jest want to bathe your feet
why go out here to the hoss-trough."

Jack was shown how to get into the kitchen and where
wood and kindling were kept. He was urged to eat supper, but
he had eaten so heartily in the superintendent's office, that he
didn't care for any and seeing that his master would not eat,
neither would Joe.

Jack went to bed early. Joe's mat was changed from the
foot of the bed to the side, so that Jack could lie with his hand
on the dog's head. The munching of the horses as they ate
the corn was sweet and restful music to our tired lad, who tried
to review the events of the past few days. The sad death of
his father, was the most vivid picture in the child's mind. That
he had murdered his step-brother, seemed like some horrible
dream. He tried to brand himself a murderer. He tried to
imagine the grief and despair of his step-mother as she viewd
the lifeless form of her boy, bathed in blood from the terrible

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 53

gash on his head. But it seemed as if God had in some way
numbed his sensibilities to such an extent that he escaped the
horror and despair that might have run him mad.

The thought of Mose and Dilsie in their lonely hut, brought
the tears to his eyes. Would he ever see them again? How
would he ever have lived to reach this place if it had not been
for the present Mose slipped into his stocking? Traveling and
lunches had taken it all, and he had tried so hard to be saving.

Jack had abandoned his boat at Cheraw, S. C, after travel-
ing all night, and had walked and walked, neither knowing or
caring where he was going, just so he escaped the wrath of his
step-mother, and the consequences of his rash, mad act. Very
often a wagoner would ask him to ride, and he always accepted
if he could arrange for Joe to ride, and refused promptly if
arrangements could not be made. At Columbia, he met with a
boy older than himself — a regular little tramp — who was intend-
ing to "beat a train" to Augusta that night and tried to persuade
Jack to accommapy him.

"I'd love to beat a train goin' somewhere," said Jack, "but
I don't see how it can be done. Me an' Joe has come a long
way an' traveled mitey fast, but any train could beat us."

"Aw go way," laughed the other boy. "Don't be so fresh
an' green — the cows and geese will eat you shore. Don't you
know how to beat a train? I don't mean beat it a gettin' there,
but beat the road outen fare — ride on the sly, without a ticket."
Jack's eyes narrowed down to mere slits, as he voiced his dis-
approval :

"Me an' Joe don't do things that way. We'll be straight,
no difference what it costs. We'll walk when we can't pay."

As Jack lay in his bed and reviewed the past two weeks, it
seemed to him that it had been months since he left home. He
wondered what he was going to do for clothes, and a choking
sense of dread crept into his heart as he thought of going into
the big mill with its awful noise, and among so many strangers.

Jack, though tired, was restless, and for a long time lay
and gazed at the round faced moon that looked in at the open
window, while the soft June zephyrs, fragrant with an odor
of roses that brought memories of home, rushed in and kissed
his brow. He finally thought that perhaps he had not set his
clock to alarm properly and got up to see. The light of the

54 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

moon proved his fears groundless and he lay down again and
soon fell asleep.

Mrs. Baxter in her night gown and bed-room slippers,
peeped into the stove room next morning at 4:30 and drew a
deep breath of satisfaction as she saw that the fire was already
made in the big range and the kettle and buckets filled with
water.

She sleepily made her way back to her bed, dropping down
by the side of her husband, wondering in a bewildered way who
this little tramp lad could be. Nudging her companion with her
elbow she plied him with questions and soon learned all that
Baxter knew about the boy.

"So he's a orphan ! Don't look like he's had half enough to
eat — poor little chap! Well, I'll see that he gets all the good
juicy steak, eggs an milk that he can hide under his shirt, an'
if he don't perk up under it, I'll know there's somethin' turrible
ailin him." Baxter was delighted and he ventured :

"Mother, the little feller's goin' to work this mornin' an'
he's mitey dirty. I expect some of them boys will be pickin'
at him an' axin if his washwoman didn't bring his clothes home.
You know there's a mighty clean an' pertickler set of help here."
Mrs. Baxter bounced out of bed and left the room. Presently,
still in her night gown, she returned with a bundle.

"Get right up from there, John Baxter and take these things
to that child. Ned's outgrowed 'em but they're good and clean.
That orphan ain't goin' dirty from my house." Baxter's gray
eyes beamed lovingly on his robust spouse, and he hurriedly
pulled on his trousers, glad to do her bidding, and prove to the
boy that he had told the truth when declaring that his wife
was "the best woman in the world."

When Baxter went to the barn he found that the horses had
all been fed and Jack was in the stall rubbing the glossy sides
of "Midnight," a nervous and fiery mare colt, that was just
being broken to harness.

"Come outten there, lad; come out!" he cried, in fear for
the child's life. "She'll kill you. She's a young devil!"

"Why, she's a lovin' beauty," declared Jack, winding his
arms about the colt's neck, and patting her confidently. To
Baxter's amazement, the colt made no objection, and even left
her food and followed Jack wistfully, as he went to the other end
of the trough, climbed over it and into the barn.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 55

"Well, I'll swigger! Jack, air you a wizzard? How did
you win her?" asked Baxter.

"I just loved her and trusted her — that's all," replied Jack,
smilingly, as he stopped to pat Joe and to assure him that he
had no cause for jealousy. Baxter unrolled his bundle, grinning
triumphantly :

"Didn't I tell you the old 'oman would be your best friend?
Now jest look what she's sent ye. Some overalls, clean stockings,
a shirt — an — bless Patty! a tie," he gasped, as he saw one of
his own washties unfold to his sight. "An, yes, here's a night
shirt, too," and Baxter spread the garments on the bed. Jack's
eyes filled with tears :

"I was wishin' I had some clean clothes, but I didn't think
I'd get 'em," he stammered gratefully. "Please tell Mrs. Baxter
that I thank her a thousand times, an' if I live I'll do something
for her some day. I won't ever forget this. An — an — Mr.
Baxter, won't you go with me in the mill this mornin' an —
sorter start me off right?" begged Jack, catching the man's hand
in his eagerness.

Why, I sure will, my boy. Now, you hurry into these togs.
Don't wear nothin under your shirt an overalls, cause it's hot
in the mill, an you'll have to dress light or you can't stand it,
goin' in at the hot season this way. When you git ready, let's
go to breakfast, so we'll be at the mill on time. They ain't nothin'
like bein' on time, my boy. Punctuility ort to be everybody's
motto. Punctility, an' a determination to do your work jest a
little better than anybody alse ever did, will make a feller go to
top rail ever time," declared Baxter, as he waited for Jack to
change clothes.

"Why, they are just right!" exclaimed Jack, proudly, as he
donned the overalls. "But must I wear this?" and he held up
the tie, half doubtfully and a little wistfully.

"Sure! the old 'oman will expect it. Somehow a tie allers
gives a feller a kind of unapproachable, hands-off look, an is a
mitey nice finish to an overall suit," returned Baxter, stepping
forward and showing the boy how to tie it on.

"I can do that. It's tied like a hamestring," laughed Jack.

The big dining room table was full of boarders and Jack
was glad that he was to have his meals with the family in the
kitchen. Mrs. Baxter, though busy helping the cook to "wait

56 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

on" the boarders, took time to pile Jack's plate with choice food,
and was pleased to see that he ate heartily.

"Thank you for those clean clothes," he had whispered
timidly, as she paused by his chair; but she hurried away with-
out answering, to look after another's wants, leaving our boy
a little uncomfortable. He learned later, that some of the best
and truest hearts that ever beat, are hidden beneath rough ex-
teriors and indifferent manners.

CHAPTER VII.

Jack's heart throbbed wildly as he and Baxter climbed the
stairs to the spinning room; he gazed with mingled awe and
dread, half frightened and half fascinated by the noisy, laugh-
ing, joking crowd, as each hurried to his or her place in the mill.

Superintendent Nixon, and Mr. Jones, the spinning room
overseer, were standing at the head of the stairs in the big alley.

"On time, I see," smiled the superintendent, patting Jack's
shoulder. "Mr. Jones will give you a job," he said, then left
the room.

Jack looked at his "boss," who turned and motioned to a
boy who was passing.

"Steve, take this boy and teach him to doff." The boy
nodded assent, looked Jack over and grinned, then passed on.
Baxter gave Jack a gentle push and he followed. When they
had gone a few steps the overseer called :

"Come here a minute, Steve," and Jack paused, as the boy
retraced his steps Mr. Jones said in a low voice:

"Look here now, Steve, the new boy, Jack Armstrong, is an
orphan, and I want you to look out for him and see that no one
mistreats him. I'm going to depend on you to see him through.
You may tell the others that any one who doesn't treat him with
consideration, will be discharged. That's all," as the boy stared
at him.

Steve was the greatest tease in the mill and was. generally
called the "meanest," but Mr. Jones had great tact, and knew
exactly how to handle him in this instance. The lad walked
back feeling several inches taller. He was a little amazed and
chagrined to find that they would not be allowed to initiate the
new boy, a ceremony religiously performed for the benefit of
every "green-horn," and heretofore always enjoyed by even

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 57

the "boss." But then, this "kid" was an orphan, and he, Steve
Laney, was elected his guardian. Well, he'd show Mr. Jones
that he was equal to the task set for him, and he'd "just knock
the stuffin out of any boy that bothered the kid !"

Joe could not understand at first why he must be left, but
finally became reconciled. He would go with Jack to the mill
door, morning and noon, and soon learning the "stopping time"
whistle, would dash for the mill door, reaching it first and wait-
ing for the lad. Anxious that his pet should be appreciated,
Jack often had him perform on the mill lawn during the noon
hour, and smiled delightedly over the applause he received.

While his master was in the mill, Joe took charge of the
younger Baxter children, and it was amusing to see how hard
he tried to keep the two-year-old off the streets and out of
danger. He learned to open and shut the yard gate, and would
go to the postoffice and mail letters that had been carefully
wrapped to keep them clean. He would stand on his hind legs
and bark in at the general delivery window, asking for mail. If
there happened to be none, the postmaster would give him an
uncalled for paper, for Joe refused to leave "empty-handed."

Mrs. Baxter would often send Joe with an order to the
market and he always returned promptly with a basket of meats,
getting a generous slice as a reward.

Jack got along nicely in the mill. He had gone in deter-
mined to work so well that Mr. Nixon would never regret giving
him a chance. He was anxious to please and watched the other
boys closely, trying every day to improve.

He never failed to have the fire in the range at 4:30 a. m.
Mrs. Baxter soon learned that she could depend upon him, and
was greatly benefited by the extra hour of sleep she enjoyed.
Meantime, Jack improved wonderfully. His work gave him a
good appetite and Mrs. Baxter, understanding the need of a
growing boy, took especial pains in a quiet matter of fact way,
to furnish him all the good, nourishing food needed to develop
body, brain and muscle. In fact, she looked after the lad so
thoughtfully, that her own sixteen-year-old son, Ned, jealously
remonstrated, and to his everlasting surprise, got spanked for
his pains.

On the 20th of December, just six month's after Jack's
arrival, Superintendent Nixon walked across the mill lawn to
speak to his doffer boys. It was still lovely weather and the

58 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

boys were playing leap-frog, standing on their heads and doing
other stunts between doffs. Noticing that one boy took no part
in their games, Mr. Nixon, much interested, walked over to
where the lad sat upon a rustic seat, his head bent over a book,
and so absorbed that he did not notice the man's approach. The
boy was Jack, and the book was a second-grade reader:

"Good for you, my boy!" exclaimed Mr. Nixon. "That's
right. Improve every golden minute. Your overseer tells me
that you are best doffer in the mill, and Baxter says he couldn't
get along without you and Joe. I haven't seen or heard of any
inquiry for you, so I'm rather glad I gave you a chance."

Jack looked up with shining eyes:

"I'm glad Mr. Jones is pleased. I've tried to do my best.
I'm studying all I can, too, and saving my money to go to school
later."

"How much have you saved on 50 cents a day?" smiled the
superintendent.

"All I've made except some I had to spend for books and
a Sunday suit, hat, shoes and underwear, so I could go to Sunday
school — and some Sunday school money."

"How much time have you lost?"

"Not a single day," very proudly.

"And you study while the others play?"

"Well, you see, I can't study at night, since the days are so
short, 'cause I can't have a light in the barn. Mr. Baxter is
afraid of fire," replied Jack.

"Are you still in the barn? Why don't you stay in the
house?"

"Mrs. Baxter needs all her rooms for boarders and I like
it at the barn with Joe. I couldn't leave him alone — and couldn't
take him in the house. But I do wish we could have a light."

"Why don't you quit work after Christmas and go to school?
It won't cost you a cent and you can still work for Baxter for
your board."

"I'd rather work and make money. Besides Mr. Baxter and
Nellie say I am learning faster than any of the boys in school."

"Well, well, well!" said the superintendent in amazement.
"Jack what do you do with your money? I mean where do
you keep it?"

"Mrs. Baxter keeps it for me."

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 59

"Better deposit it in the bank, my boy — or, you can put it
in the office and draw interest on it," suggested Mr. Nixon.

"I didn't know I could do that," replied Jack. "May I bring
it tomorrow?" he asked.

"Of course you may, my boy," and Mr. Nixon smiled into
the boy's eager upturned face. "I'm glad to know that you are
starting a bank account. There's nothing like saving systemat-
ically; even if it's just a small sum every week, it grows rapidly
and makes one independent."

Jack kept out a little of his money for Christmas, but next
morning after first doff, he went into the superintendent's office
and proudly laid $50.00 on the desk. Presently, he returned
to his work, leaving his money behind, and in his overall pocket
neatly wrapped to keep it clean, he carried a "bank book."

"Mr. Jones wants you in his office," said Steve Laney.
"Guess he's goin' to raise you about somethin'. What's you
been doin'? Somethin' always happens when a feller is called
to the office."

Jack gasped. A frightened look came into his eyes. The
day before a man had been called to the office and never returned.
A policeman was waiting there to arrest him, and carried him
away. Had "Mis' Florence" found him, he wondered? Was
he about to be carried home,, and tried for murder? His knees
grew weak and a feeling of utter desolation swept over him.

"Is — is — there anybody in there with Mr. Jones?" he finally
managed to ask of Steve.

"Naw ! Mr. Nixon was in there, but he's gone now."

Jack forced himself to the office, turned the door knob, and
walked in. Mr Jones was writing, but stopped, turned in his
chair and welcomed him with a smile. Jack stood first on one
foot, then the other, looking altogether uncomfortable, and
waiting for the overseer to speak. Some new wrenches were
lying on the desk. Mr. Jones picked them up, handed them to
Jack and said :

"You are promoted to head doffer. Here are a couple of
new wrenches, a present from Mr. Nixon, and you are to have
the use of Jim Grant's tools, all you wish. He will teach you
to use them during your spare time. Learn to run a section."

"Why, Mr. Jones!" exclaimed Jack. "I never thought of
such a thing — so soon ! Thank you. But ain't there other boys
that will expect a raise before me?"

60 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"That's all right, my boy — merit wins in this mill. I've kept
my eye on you and I want you to know that you are appreciated.
Every superintendent and overseer watches to see who is worthy
of promotion. Do your best, Keep up your studies. Stick
like a leach. Aim for the top and you'll get there ! Your wages
will be 75 cents per day for a while."

Mr. Jones then dismissed Jack with a wave of his hand and
resumed his writing. Jack walked out with the wrenches in his
hand and a wonderful elation in his heart. Jim Grant, the head
section man, met him with a smile and motioned him to come
over to his work bench. The doffer boys were crowded in the
big alley watching to see what was going to happen to Jack.

"Gosh! He's got some wrenches — bet he's been raised!"
exclaimed one.

"Yes, he's got Sam Short's place as head doffer. Sam is fired
for cussin' us," explained Steve. "I knowed what was goin' to
happen when he went in there."

"Golly! there's four of us ahead of him!" exclaimed one
of the largest in surprised disappointment.

"Naw!" said Steve, "they ain't! Narry one of us ain't fit
for a raise, an' we hain't never thought of getting fit. Jack's
worth all he gets, an' I hope he'll get all that's comin' to him.
Let's give three cheers for our new head doffer. Come on boys,"
and Steve led , the way to where Jack stood with Jim Grant.
Caps were tossed high and such lusty cheers went up that the
sound penetrated the office and Mr. Jones rushed out to see
what had happened. He took it all in at a glance and returned
to his desk, glad that the boys were all pleased, while Jack, his
eyes bright with gratitude and his cheeks blushing over such an
ovation from the boys, could only look at them and smile his
appreciation.

"Say something to them," whispered Jim Grant. Jack
gripped a wrench in each hand, coughed, cleared his throat,
shuffled his feet and looked deeply embarrassed, but finally he
said:

"Thank you, boys — I know we'll all get along together—
and be good friends." Then to get away from them, Jack went
and hid in the water closet, bathed his face and tried to regain
his composure. He examined his wrenches, turning them in
his hands lovingly. He could hardly realize his good fortune.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 61

He wondered though how he was going to keep up his studies,
now that he would be busy between doffs.

It was impossible to study at the boarding house. Every
room was full — even the family apartments were crowded and
Jack was such a favorite with the children that they couldn't be
kept away from him when he was there. He had managed to
make them understand with the help of Mr. Baxter, that they
must never intrude on him in his own quarters, and so he and
Joe could feel absolutely at ease and have no fear of being inter-
rupted when in the barn. Oh, if he could only have a light there !
Well, he'd still have half an hour at noon — he'd study then.

Just before the noon hour, Jim Grant, who boarded at Mr.
Baxter's said to him :

"You and I have a job for the noon hour, and I have ordered
our dinner sent to us. We've got a big order for a certain grade
of goods, and wish to change some gearing. We have to hustle
to keep up with the weave room, and can save time by making
some of the changes at noon."

"All right," was the good-natured reply, but Jack realized
that he would not see his book that day. Mr. Baxter brought
dinner, and his kind gray eyes beamed proudly upon the boy.
He felt that he deserved a little credit for Jack's good fortune.

"The barn ain't good enough for ye no longer, Jack — you're
gettin' to be boss now, and will have to move into the house,"
laughed Baxter "Yes, whoever heard of a boss man livin' in
a barn."

"Oh, stop teasing," pleaded Jack. "I'm just the same boy
that slept in the barn last night — I ain't a bit better, nor a bit
bigger. I'm proud of my raise, but it won't give me the swell
head. I like my little room in the barn with just Joe, and I'm
not going to move."

"But that place won't do, Jack. It will be cold later on.
You'll have to have better winter quarters, an' we'll be glad to
have you in the house," continued Baxter, his eyes twinkling
and at every chance he'd bestow a sly wink on Jim Grant, who
tried to change the conversation.

"Jack takes to machinery like a duck to water," he declared,
with his mouth full of pie. Just then Joe dashed up the steps,
tracking Mr. Baxter, and on seeing Jack, gave a joyous yelp
and leaped up on the work bench by his side.

62 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Thought I was lost, did you, old boy?" and Jack wound one
arm about the dog's neck. Joe begged to stay in the mill, but
Jack made him understand that he could not, and he returned
with Mr. Baxter.

Jack worked hard that day. He missed the rest between
doffs, and was very tired, but happy, when night came.

"I've already fed an' watered the stock, Jack. I didn't have
much work today, and had nothing to do. You eat your supper
before ye go to your quarters," said Baxter, as he stopped Jack
in the yard. Jack always went straight to the barn from the
mill, and looked after the stock before ating his own supper.

"Thank you, Mr. Baxter; but if you do my work, I must
pay my board," was the reply.

"I ain't goin' to do your work often," laughed the man. "I
just done it this time 'cause — well, jest 'cause," and Baxter
pushed Jack into the kitchen, where supper and more congratu-
lations were waiting.

He helped to clear the table and wash the dishes, then went
to the little room in the barn, that he had learned to love so well
and looked on as home. When he opened the door he was dumb-
founded. A brilliant electric light swung over the table on
which was a pretty new cover and several nice books. The room
had been ceiled and papered and some pretty pictures hung on
the walls. The floor was covered by a pretty rug and a real
washstand with nice drawers and large glass, had replaced the
dry goods box. A curtain hung across one corner of the room,
and a willow rocker with soft cushion and headrest was placed
by the table. The old oak bedstead had been replaced by a nice
white iron one, and the pretty chintz covering rolled back, show-
ing soft pillows and warm blankets.

"Joe !" said the boy with a lump in his throat as he backed
out : "I guess we'll be going — somebody has moved in on us."

A suppressed giggle came from behind a pile of hay and a
child's voice cried out :

"Oh, no, Jack, it's all for you ! Santa Claus has paid you an
early visit," and Ina Nixon, the superintendent's 10-year-old
daughter, sprang out before him, followed by Nellie and Ned
Baxter, while Mr. Baxter himself brought up the rear. Mrs.
Baxter, too, puffing from a run from the kitchen, rushed in just
as Ina caught Jack's hand, saying :

"They made you stay in the mill at noon so they could get

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 63

it finished as a surprise for you. Daddy says you're the wonder-
fulest boy he ever saw, and he's about to kick hisself for not
looking after you sooner. He says you'll be a superintendent
yourself some day, if you stick and you'll do that, won't you?"

"You bet I will!" declared Jack, with shining eyes.

"Well, it is nice, sure enough," said Mrs. Baxter. "But
I'm afraid we'll never get Jack in the house now," and she went
inside the room and examined the chair cushion. That and the
head rest, were made by Ina and her mother presented the chair.

Nellie had made and contributed the pretty brown linen
tables cover, embroidered with daisies, and Mrs. Baxter gave
the new table.

Mr. Nixon would have done all the furnishing but Baxter
wouldn't hear to it, and so both families contributed to the com-
fort and pleasure of the orphan.

"Wonder what the curtain's across the corner for?"

"Oh!" laughed Ned, "that's for Jack to hide behind if he
isn't properly dressed when ladies call."

"Who's goin' to call on me," grinned Jack.

"We'd like to, if you'd invite us," said Nellie, nodding to-
ward Ina, who instantly scored a point.

"Oh, Jack! Let's have school here every evening after
supper. We'll help you, and you can help us."

"Good!" replied Jack, "but I'm afraid I can't help you
much," he added doubtfully

"One good thing — it ain't never much cold here," said Mrs.
Baxter.

"If it gets too cold, I'll have daddy to give us an oil heater.
We've got several," said Ina. "If he's afraid for it to stay here,
we can carry it out when we finish our lessons."

Christmas came and Jack saw his first Sunday school
Christmas tree. He had bought pretty, inexpensive remem-
brances for each of the Baxter family, and for all the doffer
boys. Ina Nixon; too, received a lovely embroidered handker-
chief. Each package had been neatly wrapped and tied with
narrow Christmas ribbons and contained a little Christmas card
signed "Jack." These had been smuggled to those who had
charge of the tree.

He was surprised to get quite a number of presents him-
self, besides the Sunday school fruits and candies. That Christ-
mas always stood out distinctly in Jack's mind, as the most won-

64 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

derful he had ever known, and the happiest since the death of
his mother.

The winter proved mild, and according to arrangements,
our four young people had a delightful time studying in Jack's
cosy room. Ned Baxter shook off the dullness that made him a
laggard in his class, and became thrilled by the influence of
Jack's energy and ambition, making such rapid progress that his
teacher was astonished. Ned was afraid that Jack would catch
him — and he studied as he never had before.

CHAPTER VIII.

The following Spring Jack bought a two-gallon ice cream
freezer and learned to make cream, which he found was eagerly
bought. It was no trouble to dispose of two gallons at the board-
ing house on Saturday evenings and there was a big demand for
it at the park and ball ground. He soon had such a trade that he
bought another churn, and hired Ned Baxter to help him.

For a few weeks Ned worked with a will, but spent his
money as fast as he made it. Then he decided that he couldn't
confine himself to business on Saturdays, after studying hard
all the week, and he told Jack so.

"But, Ned. you have lots of time — and you are making your
own money. Your father buys everything you need and you
could save what you make with me and invest it, or put it in the
bank and draw interest," said Jack.

"Save nothing — I can't save. I haven't got a cent of the two
dollars I made last Saturday. What it's gone for I don't know.
I've got nothing to show for it," and in spite of all Jack could
say, Ned quit, much to the disappointment of his mother, who
gave him a "piece of her mind."

"Jack ain't never had no chance, but he's goin' to- be
somethin', an' have somethin'. I've worked an slaved day in an'
day out ,to send you to school, an' I don't recon' you'll ever earn
the salt in your bread," she grumbled.

Jack found a nice, clean colored boy, who promptly executed
his orders, bought ice and everything necessary, and soon learned
to make the cream. He became better and more satisfactory
help than Ned had been and worked for less. Business was so
good that Jack made plenty for all his expenses, and during the
whole summer deposited his entire mill earnings in the office.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 65

He did not neglect his duties to Mr. and Mrs. Baxter, both
of whom became greatly attached to the boy. He had offered
to pay for his board, but both had declared emphatically that
his services were worth more than his keep, and had often urged
him to take a room in the house; but he refused. He knew he
would have to room with Ned, and he preferred to be alone with
Joe. Jack stuck to his books, too. Except on Saturday nights
and Sundays, he had two solid hours of hard study. During
work hours, Jack faithfully and religiously performed his work.

The superintendent and overseer kept an eye on Jack and
marveled. They noticed that the boy never failed to pick up
bobbins or clean waste that he saw on the floor; that he had a
quick eye for defective machinery, a quick ear for anything that
had not been properly oiled, and that he took great interest in
his work.

"There's something in that boy," they would say to each
other." But Jack was all unconscious of the fact that he was
the subject of admirable comment.

One day a small, pleasant-faced old gentleman called to see
the superintendent and while in the office Jack came in with a
report, which he carefully filed on the superintendent's desk. He
was about to pass out, when Mr. Nixon stopped him.

"Jack, come back a moment, I want you to meet the mill
boys' friend— Mr. G. S. Escott, editor of The Mill News. Mr.
Escott, this is Jack Armstrong, one of our future men of note,,
if I'm not greatly mistaken."

Jack doffed his cap and came forward, blushing modestly.

"I'm glad to meet you, Jack," was the hearty greeting of
the South's most beloved Textile editor, and Jack felt the thrill
of sincerity in the firm handclasp and cheery voice.

"And I am more than glad to meet you, Mr. Escott. I've
seen several copies of The Mill News and like it."

"How would you like to read it every week, my boy? Mr.
Nixon has been telling me about you. I feel deeply interested
in all mill boys, and especially those who are energetic and
ambitious," said Mr. Escott.

"The price is only one dollar per year — less than two cents
a week, you see," smiled the editor. "But if you will promise
to read it, and in future years give it credit for any help it
may give you. you shall have it a year free of charge."

66 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"Why, thank you, Mr. Escott, of course I'd do that — but
let me pay for it," and Jack drew a dollar from his overall
pocket. The superintendent laughed :

"Better take it, Escott — you ought to see his bank account."

But Mr. Escott was busy writing Jack's name.

"What address?" he asked.

"Barnyard Avenue," teased Mr. Nixon.

"In care of Baxter Heights," smiled Jack, "and thank you
sir."

"You are welcome, my boy. All I ask is that you read and
profit by it Here's a copy of last issue. You will always get
your paper on Friday."

Jack has never been without the paper since. He studied
it carefully and followed the advice of Mr. Nixon he clipped and
treasured rules and calculations found in its pages, pasting them
in a big scrap book for future refernce. He did not understand
them all at first of course; but the superintendent had assured
him that they would "come in handy" some day; and now that
old scrap book is one of Jack's most valued possessions, furnish-
ing a fund of information, such as no book published has ever
gotten together.

Jack often had a bitter struggle to resist the temptations
of his companions to join in their sports and larks. Because he
would not smoke, they called him "Sainty." When he clung to
liis books rather than attend shows and carnivals, they called
him "Granny." But he registered a vow to "make a man of
himself," and he knew that he was making good. He believed
that his rapid progress in his studies was largely due to the fact
that his intellect had never been dulled by the use of the filthy
and poisonous cigarette.

He could afford to listen to taunts when he realized how
he was outstripping the taunters. His wages had been raised,
and now he was making one dollar per day, considered in those
days a man's wages. He was becoming an expert frame fixer,
and was often given charge of a section for an hour or two,
when any one of the fixers asked "out" to attend to business
at home or in town.

Time passed on and when Jack had been two years in the
mill, he decided to break the monotony by giving the boys a
party. He spoke to Mr. Baxter about it, saying that he wanted
to treat the boys to cream, and have a little fun, all to them-

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 67

selves. The big barn was an ideal place for a gathering of
youngsters, and about sixteen spinning room boys, ranging in
age from twelve to sixteen, received the following invitations,
each reading them on the sly, and religiously keeping silent:

"Dear Friend: You are invited to my room Thursday
evening at 8 o'clock. Don't tell anyone else, and don't fail to
come. Cream will be served. Jack"

"Cream will be served!" Jack's cream was known to be
extra fine and every boy, anxious to have his appetite appeased,
kept the secret, hoping that no one else knew.

Baxter helped Jack with his arrangements and also made
some arrangements on the sly, which we hope our readers will
forgive. He had the boys' confidence and knew that the party
would be interesting.

The night arrived, and promptly at 8 o'clock, the guests
filed in, each glaring jealously at the other, and wondering how
much cream Jack had; then sighing with satisfaction as they
saw both his churns standing packed in ice. There were two
long benches in the barn, borrowed by Baxter from the mill
lawn, and a large table had been laid with a white cloth, on
which were plenty of ice cream saucers and spoons, and a great
glass bowl of wafers. Half a dozen lanterns were swung from
the rafters, giving a bright mellow light, and "Jack's boy"
(Sambo, his colored helper), had actually dressed in his
immaculate white duck "waiter-suit" and cap, that Jack made
him wear when helping at the park and ball ground.

Jack welcomed his guests and showed them his room, which
many of them had never seen.

"This is my home, and Joe's," he said.

"No one ever intrudes on us here without an invitation, and
so I get to read and study with more satisfaction than you can
guess," showing them his books.

"Gee ! I wish I had a nice room to stay in at home," exclaim-
ed one wistfully.

"Me, too," said another. "I wouldn't ever want to go out
at night, if I had a nice place to stay in, — a room to call my own."

"I'm goin' to ask mother to give me a room to myself," said
Steve Laney. "We've got two upstairs we don't use and if she'd
give one to me I'd keep it cleaned up myself jest so I could call
it mine," he said.

68 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"Boys don't get no show," said Tommy Dawkins. "Gals can
have rooms to theyselves, an' have purty little things in 'em ; but
boys have to squeeze in jest anywhere, outten the way, an' ruther
then smother we git out on the street an' that means bad com-
pany sometimes. I guess our parents don't think about boys,
much."

"Maybe that's why boys ain't blamed much as gals if they
go wrong," said one of the oldest. "They don't get no snow —
and everybody knows it — and there ain't much expected of 'em.
Nobody is surprised if they 'sow wild oats.' "

Under the long wagon shelter back of the barn three men
were listening. They were Superintendent Nixon, Overseer
Jones and Baxter. A plank had been ripped off and a full view
of the big barn room was given. The superintendent could hear
every word and was thinking fast.

The boys now came out of Jack's room, and the men noticed
a very serious expression on the young host's face. He was as
large now as any sixteen-year-old boy in the room. The way he
had grown the past two years was something wonderful, thanks
to Mrs. Baxer.

"Have seats, boys," said Jack, kindly Then with one hand
on the table he stood and faced them.

"Boys, if asking you here and showing you my room
makes you dissatisfied at home, I shall be sorry. I wanted us to
get together and have a nice time, celebrating the second anni-
versary of my coming among you. You have all been kind to
me, and I wish I could make you understand how I love you
all. None of you have had a harder life than I."

"Tell us all about yourself an' where you came from," asked
one. Jack's face turned white, and he was silent for a moment.

"Friends, it's too sad — don't ask me. I'm an orphan — all
alone in the world, and hiding from a stepmother who stole my
father's heart and home from me. Don't ask me more," he
faltered.

"I told Mr. Nixon about it the day I asked him for a job,
and he took me in and helped me. I'll never forget it, and if I
ever amount to anything I will owe it to him and my good friends,
Mr. and Mrs. Baxter. Boys, I thought we would have some fun
tonight. I wanted to have Joe perform for you, but I fear some-
thing has happened to him. He has been missing the past hour.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 69

Then, too, your remarks about your homes and why you go out
at night, has set me to thinking."

The men behind the barn listened eagerly. Jack continued
earnestly :

"I wish we could manage some way to keep you interested
at night, and keep you off the streets. You are all such good
boys and ought to have a chance. Isn't there some way? Can't
you outwit fate? As the old saying goes, can't you stand your
ground and fight the devil with his own weapons? Boys, who
are going to fill the vacancies that must come in the mills, bye
and bye? How many of us are thinking of the future? I've
learned a lot by reading Mill News the past year. We think that
overseers and superintendents don't notice our struggles, but
I'm beginning to think they do. They have to send off for over-
seers, just because none in their own mills are qualified. Let's
see to it, that the spinning room boys shall represent our mill
somewhere in the future. I memorized a little poem the other
day, which I am going to recite. Somehow, it helped me a lot
and maybe it will help you." Then the listeners were amazed
and thrilled with unexpeced eloquence and oratory, as Jack
recited slowly and with great power of expression, his whole face
lighted with earnestness and enthusiasm :

"Be strong!
We are not here to play, — to dream, to drift.
We have hard work to do and loads to lift.
Shun not the struggle, — face it ; 'tis God's gift.

Be strong!
Say not the days are evil. Who's to blame?
And fold the hands and acquiesce — 0 shame !
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God's name.

Be strong !
It matters not how deep intrenched the wrong,
How hard the battles goes, the day, how long ;
Faint not, — fight on ! Tomorrow comes the song."

Applause came in lusty cheers and hearty hand clapping.

"Jack, you're a preacher!" "No, he's goin' to be a lawyer!"
"A mill superintendent!" "Gosh no! — he'll never stop till he
gits to be president!" were the excited exclamations, as Jack
finished.

70 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"May I say a word?" asked Steve Laney, springing to his
feet.

"Sure you may, Steve. — Let's hear from any one who has
something on his mind," said Jack, happy to see Steve looking
very much in earnest.

"I'm so full I'm about to bust, an' I don't know how to say
what I want to. But Jack, here's my hand," and he walked to
Jack and they stood there gripping hands and looking each other
in the face. Steve turned to the others still holding to Jack.

"Boys, we are all darn fools, if we don't turn about face an'
march different to what we've been doin'. I never hearn any-
thing to beat Jack's speech. Let's all make Jack a leader, an'
let him make somethin' outen us if he can." Jack blushed. What
he had said was not premeditated and he had just realized what
he had done. He had never before made a "speech" and this had
just bubble up from his heart, unexpectedly. He had completely
forgotten himself in his interest in the boys, and now was over-
whelmed as they crowded around him eagerly :

"We'll follow you anywhere, Jack," they cried. "We want
to be something, but we don't know how, an' chances are mighty
slim."

"I don't know what to do," stammered Jock — "what can I
do for you? You all have parents to teach you — "

"They're too busy — we want something with you in it,
Jack," they cried.

"I'll have to think it over, boys — say — will you all meet me
here again next Thursday night?"

"Sure, we will," they chorused.

"Alright, then. I will try to think by then, what can be
done," he stammered almost overcome by his emotions. Then
he turned to Sambo, who had stood by silently with an appre-
ciative grin on his black face :

"You may serve the cream now." And soon the boys were
served to their favorite delicacy, and it was easy to see that some
of them had reached a climax in their lives.

The men under the shelter realized that a great moment
had come to these boys. They had reached the "crossing."
Which road would they take? They were ready for action —
eager for battles to fight, — longing for victories. Into the heart
of the superintendent there crept a resolve. He would help Jack
to "find a way."

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 71

Jack laughed and joked with the boys and tried to hide
from them the fact that he was worried so, over the absence
of Joe. Ah ! perhaps Mrs. Baxter had found it necessary to send
him to the postoffice, — or to the market. He whispered to
Sambo to go and ask her.

Sambo ran out and presently returned, saying that Joe
had gone to the postoffice to mail some letters, but had been
gone longer than usual, and Mrs. Baxter was uneasy too.

"Boys," said Jack, "I am very much afraid something has
happened to my dog. He's never done this way before. Seems
to me I couldn't live without Joe. He has been my playmate
for seven years. I know he can't live always — but he is not
old — and has never shown signs of age. Boys, how long do dogs
live?"

"Law, Jack, our dog is old as I am," declared Steve Laney,
quickly. "Joe will live many years yet. Don't you worry about
him. Everybody in this town knows Joe. The papers are always
printing something nice about him. No one would hurt your
dog — and he wouldn't let hisself be stole."

"We'll all turn out and help you find him if you want to go
look for him," declared Tommy Dawkins. Sambo had been out
in the yard and now dashed into the barn excitedly.

"Gawd amighty, Mister Jack, Joe's a commin wid a burgler !
He done kotched somebody an got 'im by de cote tail an leading
'im in," and Sambo backed up in one corner, just as Joe came to
the door with his prisoner, and barked joyously. He left his
charge for a moment and dashed to Jack, then dashed out in
the yard.

"What is it old boy?" and Jack, followed by the others,
rushed out to where a little old withered colored man stood
leaning on a stick.

The men had hurried from behind the barn and were at the
corner coming to the front. One of the boys had taken down a
lantern and stood in the door holding it above his head. Joe
leaped from the old darkey to Jack. Jack rushed forward for-
getful of everything and gathered the old man in his arms.

"Oh, Mose! Mose! Dear Mose! Good Mose! Can it be pos-
sible?" he said, laughing and crying, while the old man kept
repeating :

"Lil' Marse — oh, lil Marse ! Didn't I tole you so? Honey lam'
de Lawd done brung us togedder agin — an' Joe was His good

72 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

agint. Oh, lil Marse, am dis yo' shore enuff ? I's bin lookin' for
you honey, mitey ni eber since yo' bin gone. Oh, how you has
growd! Bres de Lawd fo' His mercies!"

The superintendent whispered something to Baxter, who
nodded his head, and he and Mr. Jones silently slipped away in
the darkness. Then Baxter quietly went to Steve Laney, wisper-
ed something to him, and presently the crowd had dispersed
feeling that there was something too sacred in the meeting of
Jack and this old darkey for them to gaze upon.

CHAPTER IX.

Jack looked around, thinking to explain to his friends what
they had more than likely guessed, that Mose was "an old friend
from home," but was surprised to find that all had gone. He
drew a sigh of relief and thankfulness. Now he could have
Mose all to himself, and there were so many things to talk
about, — so much to explain.

"Come, sit down, and tell me everything. How did Joe find
you?" asked Jack, as they both seated themselves in the barn
door, with Joe at their feet.

"Honey, hit beat eberting, — he grabbed me by de britches
an' pulled me back ez I wuz a gittin' on de train. I had trabbled
all ober de town de las' two days lookin' fur ye. I bin a trabblin
to diffrunt places an' makin' all kinds of inquiries, but dey ain't
nobody eber hearn tell o' a boy named Jack LeGrande." Jack
smiled, and replied :

"I am Jack Armstrong. And you were leaving?"

"Yes, I wuz des gettin on de train when I felt sumpin pullen
me back by de laig, an' when I seen Joe I des fell offen dem
steps and flung my arms roun' his neck an' hollered 'Glory!' A
big orficer wid a blue coat on grabbed me an' say : "What's de
mattah niggah? Is you got de jimjams? Come erlong wid me.'
An' he got me by de arm, he did, an 'low he gwine ter lock me
up. Den Joe he rar up on dat man an' look him in de eye an'
growl, an' de man turnt me loose. Den Joe he got down. De
man he say: 'Niggah, better 'splain yerself ! Youse been loafin
roun' here two days now — Fse been watching ye, and didn't I
kotch ye stealin dat dog?" Sez I:

" 'Mister, dat dog's massa is mine, an' Fse been looking for
him gwine on two yeah. Doan lock me up ; I ain't done nuffin

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 73

'tall — des a lookin fur my 'lil marse what lef home an got lostetiV
Joe growled at him again, den grabbed me by de coat tail an'
started off wid me an de man sorter laff , an sed :

"Well, go 'long niggah ; f rum de way de dog acts, I believe
he knows you; an me and Joe come on." Joe got up and placed
his paw on Mose's knee, and stood there looking into the old
black face with a world of love in his brown eyes.

"There never was such a dog," declared Jack, leaning over
and patting Joe.

"Honey, is you been well? But I knows you is frum de way
you's growed. Who wuz all dem boys dat wuz here dis now?"
asked Mose.

"They were some friends of mine — some of the mill boys.
I was giving them a party. I'll give you some ice cream when
you rest a little."

"Lil' marse does you mean facktery folks? You ain't
soshatin wid dem is you, now honey?" asked the old man,
anxiously.

"Mose, I'll tell you everything soon as I can. But don't you
know what I'm dying to hear about first, and am afraid to ask?"
and Jack took an old black hand and stroked it tenderly.

"You means about Mis' Florence and Arfur? Dey is bofe
well." Jack sprang to his feet with a low cry.

"Mose! oh, Mose! Is Arthur alive? Didn't I— didn't— " and
Jack sank down on the ground, shaking with sobs. Mose lifted
the boy in his arms.

"Honey lam' is you been thinkin' dat all dis time? Hain't
you neber hearn nuffin from nobdy? Is dat turrible thing been
yo' company day an night?" and the old man choked down for
a moment thinking of what Jack must have suffered.

"Yes, chile, dey bofe well. I'll neber forgib mahsef fo'
sendin you off lak dat, but Gawd knows I acted 'cordin to mah
lights. I'se prayed day an night dat de Shepard let me fin' dis
los' lam 'fore he gedder me into de sheepfold," said the old man.

"It turned out all right, Mose, and now I'm perfectly happy.
Oh ! I'm so glad I'm not a murderer ! Now tell me about Mammy
Dilsie." Mose heaved a sigh, then looked up into the heavens.
Pointing with his trembling finger, he said:

"Honey, you see dem stars? When you wuz 'bout fo' year
old you axe me one night if dey wuz holes in de flore ob heben,
an wuz de brightness de glory a shinin' f rew. You got dem purty

74 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

ideas from yo' ma. She wuz allers tellin' you about heben. Lil'
Marse, Dilsie up dar, an I 'low she lookin' frew de fiore an'
watchin' ober Mose."

Oh! my good mammy Dilsie," sobbed Jack. "I'll never
see her again! Tell me all about it, Mose — did she suffer?" and
he clasped the old hands tighter and tighter.

"No, honey, she neber wuz sick a minute. We wuz fixin' to
go to bed, an' wuz a holding our fambly prayers. She wuz a
kneelin' at de big rocker what yo' ma gib her, an' she neber got
up no mo' ; she wuz a leadin' de prayer, dat night an her las'
words wuz, 'Oh, Lawd, don' forget 111— Marse Jack!' Den she
stop, she did, an' I 'low she des obercome wid her feelins and I
took up whar she lef off an finished. When I sed a'men,' she
never riz. I 'low she wuz des a communin wid de Lawd, an' I
eased off to bed. I lay dar, an' watched an waited, an' she neber
moved ner made no soun'. Den a sumpin clutched my po' ole
h'art wid a big fear, an' I called her. She neber answered, an'
when I got up an' went to her, I seen dat her sperrit had gone to
glory." Mose paused for a moment and drew his hand across
his eyes ; Jack was sobbing unrestrainedly now. Mose continued :

"Dat wuz de las' day of August, atter you lef in June. An'
now, I'se foun' you, an' bress Gawd I'se ready to answer de roll-
call, too. Oh! lil' Marse, lil Marse! Hit's a great thing to be
ready. Is you ready, honey?"

"Oh, Mose, no! but I wish I were. I am so happy and
miserable, too. Am so glad Arthur is living and so sorry Aunt
Dilsie is gone and I'll see her no more. But I have you — and
Joe."

"Honey, you gwine ter see her if you git ready fo' de
journey, f 'low she's yo' ma's hand-maid, up dar, des as she
wuz here ! Dat would please /ier better'n anything elese, an' de
good Lawd gwine ter let everybody have dey pleasures up dar."

For some little time neither spoke. Jack's heart was stirred
with many emotions. Present^ he sprang up :

"Mose! you are tired and hungry — I'll go to the house and
get something for you. I was so proud to see you I almost forgot
it. You are sure it's you — and you won't be gone if I turn my
head?" Mose laughed softly :

"Honey, I ain't never been a spook but once — does you
'member dat night?"

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 75

"Well, I guess I do! Didn't we have some fun? But, now
you stay right here till I get back," and Jack started for the
boarding house. When he had reached the lot gate he paused,
then ran back.

"Mose — I — am so afraid it's all a dream ! But you are here
— you won't be gone when I get back, will you?" and Jack
reached out and touched the old gray head to make sure it was
all true.

"Honey, I shore is here, an' dey ain't no joke 'bout bein'
hongry. Des you run erlong an git me a piece o' bread 'cause
my inners is gettin mighty oneasy, an' raisin' a tumble fuss,"
and Jack darted to the house, where he found Mr. and Mrs.
Baxter together

"Mother Baxter," (all the boarders called her that, and so
did Jack) "the dearest friend I have on earth, the old man who
has always known and nursed me, has come and is hungry — "

"Here's a waiter all fixed for him, Jack — we thought some-
thin' of the kind. 'Pa' was out in the lot when he come, and
heard enough to make him guess more," said the good woman
kindly. "Take this to him. Let Sambo come to the house
directly, and I'll send some quilts out there, too, to fix him a good
pallet."

"Sambo has cleaned up and gone, but I will come and get
them myself. Oh, you are so good! You've been a mother to
me, sure enough," murmured Jack. "I'd like for you both to
come out and see Mose and let him tell you all about me. When
you took me in I was the most miserable boy on earth. I thought
I was a murderer, but oh, I'm not — I'm not! Come out and let
Mose tell you everything."

"We'll be out there directly with some quilts," said Baxter,
and Jack hurried back to Mose.

It was past midnight when Baxter and his wife left the barn,
where they had been given a full history of Jack's life and their
eyes were dim with tears over the recital. Mose had been told
of all that had happened to Jack and some of his prejudice
against "factery folks" had been removed, while he ate ice cream
and listened.

Mose had left his home in the hands of his daughter and her
husband, who had stayed with him since Dilsie died, and had
taken what money he had saved and started on his hunt for

76 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

Jack, doing odd jobs, cutting wood, cleaning yards, hoeing
gardens and anything he could find to do, to help pay his ex-
penses and he had a few dollars left. When he learned that
Jack was determined to stick to his job in the mill, Mose said:

"Well, lil' Marse, Fse gwine ter stay too. I 'low I kin fin'
enough to do to pay mah way, an' I ain't neber gwine ter leave
you no mo."

"No, Mose, you shall never leave me, and I'll never leave you.
We'll fix it somehow — don't you worry — we'll never again be
separated. I'll never be able to repay you for all you've done
for me. I don't want to go back home. I don't want them to
know where I am or anything about me. Mis' Florence and
Arthur are welcome to everything. I'm so happy over the
thought that I'm not a murderer, that I can forgive them all the
past. I'm going to make some thing of myself, and some day,
when I have become as accomplished as Arthur, I'll go home to
see them."

Mose was delighted with Jack's room and examined every-
thing in it with great interest, while Jack told him all about how
and by whom it was furnished.

"Uh, huh!" grunted Mose, comically. "One little gal fixed
de cheer cushion, an anudder leettle gal fixed de table kiver.
Atter while, maybe one of 'em gwine ter fix you, ha! ha! You
soon gwine ter be a man honey, an' a mighty fine lookin' man,
too. I hopes de right one will git tangled up in yo' heart strings."

"Shut up," said Jack, in disguest. "I've got no use for
girls, and never shall have. Nellie Baxter is the best girl I ever
saw and has helped me a lot with my studies. So has little Ina
Nixon. But that's all."

The quilts were spread on a pile of soft sweet hay, where
old Mose stretched his weary limbs. Jack was very careful to
see that the old man was comfortable, then he retired to his
room. For a long time he lay awake, his heart throbbing with
both pain and pleasure, mixed with longing. He was not satis-
fied. Father, mother and Dilsie were in heaven, and Mose was
ready at any time to join them. Dilsie had died praying for him.

"Hit's a great thing to be ready! Honey is you ready?"
Mose had asked, and the words seemed to burn like coals of fire
into his brain. No! he was not ready. He realized his weak-
ness. He wanted something — he knew not what. He thought
with an aching heart of his companions. They wanted him to be

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 77

their leader. They were looking to him for help and for encour-
agement. What could he do for them? Tears filled his eyes.
He sat up in bed, leaned his head in the open window, looking up
into the starry heavens and whispered :

"Oh, Mama, Papa and Dilsie! Can't you come and help
your poor Jack? Tell me how to get this ache out of my heart.
I ought to be so happy tonight, but am miserable. I wish I
were good like Uncle Mose. Oh, I wish I were ready to meef you
in the skies. How do folks get 'ready', I wonder? I wish I knew.
I'll ask Mose tomorrow."

At last Jack fell asleep and was almost immediately awaken-
ed by his little alarm clock. He rose instantly and hurried to the
house to light the fire in the range, just as he always did, then
returned and fed the stock, being very careful not to awaken
Uncle Mose, who had been told the night before to go to the
kitchen for his breakfast.

Jack didn't feel like work that morning, but had never yet
lost a day and was determined to not lose this, the first day of his
third year. The "wheel was rolling" when he reached his place,
something that had never before happened. The overseer's face
lighted up as he saw Jack and beckoned to him.

"Got a section for you Jack — John Ames has a position as
second hand in another mill, and we want to do him the favor
of letting him off without his having to work a notice." Jack
gasped and his heart gave a bound.

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," he managed to stammer, as they
both walked toward the section in question — one of the largest
in the room.

"Do you think Steve Laney would make good in your place
as head doffer?" asked the overseer."

"I am sure of it," replied Jack eagerly. "He is popular
with the boys, and has a good honest heart."

"He was always considered the worst boy in the mill, and
absolutely impossible until the day you came," smiled Jones, as
he thought of how he had won Steve by appealing to him to
"look after Jack."

"I wish you could have seen Steve and heard him talk last
night," said Jack, and it was all the overseer could do to keep
from confessing that he had seen and heard.

Jack was not surprised when an hour later Steve Laney
rushed over to him, grabbed his hand, and began to work his

78 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

arm up and down like a pump handle. His cheeks were flushed
and his eyes sparkling as he exclaimed:

"Golly, Jack, we are both promoted! I never expected
nothin' for myself, but I ain't surprised at you."

"I'm as glad for you as for myself, Steve," smiled Jack. "I
hope it won't be our last raise, either.

"Just see what happens soon as I make a solemn swear to
f oiler you. Gosh! don't it make a feller feel good to handle a
wrench? An' say, they want me to learn to fix too. Jack, old
boy, rip ahead — I'm comin'. I'm a long ways behind you — but if
I live I'll get there! I've got a taste of promotion now an' I
like the flaver," said Steve in his funny way.

"Yes, it's great," agreed Jack. Then he continued: "Steve,
our party broke up very unexpectedly, didn't it?" And he told
his friend all about Mose, but couldn't trust himself to speak of
Dilsie's death.

"Joe ought to have a gold collar hangin' thick with gold
medals, tellin' of what he's done," declared Steve, warmly, and
expressing a desire to meet Uncle Mose.

When Mose went to the kitchen for his breakfast, Mrs.
Baxter stayed by and talked to him. She was pleased with his
courtesy and humility, and having heard from Jack that he had
always been a kitchen servant, she promptly employed him. She
had long wanted just such a person, but' had never been able to
procure one who was satisfactory.

Jack was worried at first, thinking that "Mother" Baxter
had employed Mose just to save him from expense and embar-
ressment, but the good woman finally convinced him that such
was not the case, and she looked on Mose almost as a gift from
heaven.

Jack bought four white duck suits for Mose, which made the
old man wild with delight, and as he hustled around in the dining
room in his immaculate suit, a broad grin on his withered old
face, he became a great favorite with all the boarders, and a
butt for their good natured jokes. His devotion to Jack was
beautiful and touching. Of course the story of his and Jack's
adventures leaked out, with more or less exaggerations, and for
many days was the subject of village gossip.

The town papers published a lengthy account of the affair,
which other papers copied. A week later "Mis' Florence", with
white face and trembling hands reads it in a local paper. Her

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 79

guilty heart throbbed with fear in spite of the fact which the
paper plainly stated, that "Jack and Joe are great favorites
with the mill officials. The young man is possessed of sterling
qualities which are fast pushing him to the front in his chosen
profession. He has just been promoted and the future is full of
promise. The faithful Mose has been employed in the hotel
where his young master lives, and is now perfectly happy."
Without a word she handed the paper to Arthur and pointed to
the head lines :

"Boy Lost For Tiuo Years, Found by Old Servant. Brought
Together By Boy's Faithful Dog."

Arthur eagerly read the article, punctuating it with excla-
mations of surprise and consternation. Turning to his mother
he said:

"Well. I'll swear ! Do you suppose they'll stay there ? You
got off light, mother. 'Unable to get along with his step-mother,
he ran away.' That's all the reference there is to your part of it."
Mis' Florence leaned back in her porch rocker and gazed
out over the fields to where the setting sun threw golden rays
upon two tall white tombstones.

"It seems that he intends staying there. But, oh! Arthur,
what will the neighbors say? We've led them to believe that
Jack was in school in Danville." Arthur laughed.

"I've an idea that they half doubted it, and that this won't
be much of a surprise to anyone."

"Do you know, Arthur, I'm getting tired of it all. I'm
sorry, sorry. Let's write to Jack and tell him to come home."
"The devil ! No. It's too late. You ought to have thought
of that long ago. No, I won't stand for no squealing now.
Wouldn't you look nice confessing that you had gone thrugh
your dead husband's pockets, stole and destroyed his last will
and testament?" sneeringly. It was evident that Arthur held
the whip now.

The woman had lost much of her good looks, and dark
shadows lay around her eyes. Her expression was that of one
haunted by remorse. She did not resent her son's words, but
shrank from him as if he had dealt her a blow.

"Arthur, my boy, don't hurt me so! All that I have ever

done was for your sake — because I worshipped you," she faltered.

"Well, darn it, has your love grown less ? What do you want

to flunk now for? You keep me worried to death. You have

80 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

lost all the spunk and spirit you ever had — the qualities I so
much admired," he growled, pacing the porch in front of her.

"Arthur, did you ever see a ghost?" she asked. The young
man paused with hands thrust into his pockets and looked at her
anxiously. Well did he remember the ghost of the island.

"Mother, what are you saying? Have you seen one?" he
almost whispered-

"No, I haven't seen one, but all night long I can hear
whispers in my ear, 'Where is my child, Flora? Where is my
child?' Arthur I have betrayed a good man's trust and shall
never have another moment's peace unless Jack gets his rights."

"Well, whenever you make a move like that, I'm gone for
good," snarled Arthur.

"No danger, my boy; it's too late, as you say," she replied.
She would meet her God and be eternally damned before she'd
lose her boy, for whom her soul was steeped in guilt.

CHAPTER X.

' 'Jack, the superintendent wants to see you in his office, ' ' said
Mr. Jones, on Saturday morning after the party. Jack was
right up with his work and hurried out to the big office, where
Mr. Nixon greeted him with a smile.

"How are you feeling my boy? Getting along with your
section O. K., I suppose?"

"Am feeling fine, thank you sir, and as to my section, —
come and see," and the boy's face glowed with pride.

"I have seen it Jack — and am proud of you," smiled the good
man. "I didn't see a bit of clean waste or a bobbin on your
floor yesterday. 'A new broom sweeps clean.' I've no idea you
can keep things in such apple-pie order as you have begun with.
Just how did you manage to make such a noticeable difference in
one day?" Jack blushed:

"Why sir, it was easy. I managed to speak to every spinner
as I worked or walked among them, and, asked each one for
his or her help in making our section the nicest in the room. I
explained to them the necessity of keeping all clean waste and
bobbins from the floor — and — and — I think sir, they all seemed
interested in me, and were glad to do as I asked."

"No doubt, no doubt my boy. But there's one thing, Jack,
be kind and courteous always to your help, but don't get too

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 81

familiar with them in the mill. Keep your dignity and hold
their respect."

"I'll do my best, sir," returned Jack.

"I know you will, my boy, and I had no intention of speaking
of such a thing. I sent for you because I wanted a heart-to-
heart talk with you."

Jack looked at Mr. Nixon very much puzzled. Mr. Nixon
fingered a paper-weight on his desk and looked through the open
window. Presently he spoke with great feeling:

"My boy, I shall always be thankful that God sent you to me.
He must have guided your footsteps. I have heard all about you
from Baxter. Mose is a wonderful old man. Jack, I have a
confession to make. Having some curiosity to see how you would
conduct your party last Thursday night I watched and listened.
If the devil tempted me to do it, here's where he'll get whipped
at his own game. Good shall come of it.

"I have never been so thrilled, as with your appeal to the
boys, or so touched as with their plea for help to be something.
Jack, how are you going to help them? Have you thought of a
way? Something must be done. It's up to you and me. Count
on me to help you work out any plan you suggest, that will
help them." Jack's eyes filled with tears, but he manfully sup-
pressed them :

"Mr. Nixon — I — I — don't know what to say, I shall never
forget how good you are to me. If I ever amount to anything it
will be because your good heart was opened to me, and because
you gave me a chance. And — and how can I help the boys?
They will meet with me again next Thursday night, and I don't
know what to tell them. If we could have a night school — "

"We'll have it, Jack!"

"And some music — "

"How about a string band? I'll get every boy an instru-
ment who will attend the night school — and furnish a music
teacher."

"Oh, Mr. Nixon, the very thing! Kegular studies two or
three evenings a week from 7 to 9, and musical instruments to be
given at Xmas to all who stick."

"Capital! And the instruments shall be on hand and used
occasionally to stimulate ambition," exclaimed Mr. Nixon, while
Jack's cheeks flushed with pleasure.

82 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"You can go now, Jack. Keep all this to yourself until
Thursday night, and see if your eloquence can win the boys to
hard study. If you can do that, it will be a noble work, and one
over which angels will rejoice."

Jack went out with a light heart and a. light step. His mind
was in a whirl. He blushed over the thought that Mr. Nixon
had heard his "speech" and was glad that he didn't know it at
the time. While he worked at his tasks his mind was busy. How
glad he was that a night school was possible. Nellie Baxter
would leave in September to attend college, and Jack wondered
how he would ever get along without her. Ned was not much
help, and besides he always had something else to do, or some-
where to go. Ina would not visit him after Nellie left.

Thursday evening the boys promptly invaded the barn.

"What's the program, Jack? Have you thought of any-
thing? We're ready. Speech! Speech!" were the questions and
exclaimations that greeted him, as he stepped from his room and
closed the door. Lanterns were again swung from the rafters
and two long benches furnished seats.

"Not so fast, boys — give a fellow time," laughed Jack.
"Have any of you thought of anything? Do you know any way
in which we can spend an hour or two together each evening,
in a way that will be mutually beneficial?"

"An hour or two spent with you Jack, is bound to help us ; I
ain't felt like the same kid since last Thursday night. You
pumped somethin' into me that's got me puzzled," said Steve
Laney.

"Aw, shut up, Steve, you're jest full of importance," grinned
one. "Steve's got one o' them up-stairs rooms for hisn', an' it's
fixed up nice as his sister's — only — his dresser aint ornamented
with bows and hairpins an' powder an' sich." Tommy Dawkins
spoke :

"I told ma about Jack's room an' how bad I wanted one, an' she
said: 'Tommy Dawkins, you air the limit! What does a boy
want with a room all to hisself ?' But blest if my ma didn't give
me an' brother Bill one to ourselves up stairs, an' we promised
to keep it cleaned up to save her legs."

"I heard the Super offer ma a bigger house yesterday. He
said it was better to have more room than not enough, and said
it was a great thing for boys to have a decent hole to crawl in
an' to invite company to." Another chimed in :

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 83

"Well, Golly! I heard pa an' ma say today at dinner, that
the Super, wanted them to take a larger house so we boys could
have a room to ourselves. He said boys should be considered
same as girls. An' he 'lowed that if they had dens of they own,
boys wouldn't drift away from home so much."

"Ain't it queer?" exclaimed Steve, "just a week ago we was
sliced in like a sandwich, just any old way, an' just as soon as
we make up our minds to be somethin' an do somethin', things
begin to tumble our way. Ain't it queer?"

Jack smiled. Mr. Nixon had not told him how he had been
trying to plead for the boys, but he knew.

"Well, boys, how about a night school?" he asked. No one
spoke. Evidently such a thing had not entered their minds.
They stared at him. Jack continued:

"We can have one if we wish. It will mean something to
set our hearts to the task of improving our heads. It will take
spunk, grit, determination and the qualities that go to make
good soldiers and strong men. I've been talking with Mr.
Nixon. He will furnish a teacher and help us every way he can.
How many boys will volunteer to join the night school? I am
glad of such a chance myself."

Steve Laney rose and stepped forward. "I'm with you,
Jack. It means no picture shows, an' no loafin' the streets — but
I don't give a hang — I'll stick to vou or bust — lead on — I'll
follow."

"All in favor of attending a night school stand up," cried
Jack, and he was such a leader, so magnetic, so persuasive, that
every boy promptly rose. Afterward one said:

"I didn't mean to stand up, but Jack was lookin' right at
me, an' 'peared like somethin' jest jerked me up."

"Now listen. Do you all solemnly promise to stick to busi-
ness?— no flunking?"

"We promise," came the response.

"Then I'll tell you something good. Every boy who sticks
will be presented with a musical instrument Xmas — a violin,
banjo, guitar, or whatever you wish, and music will be taught
us free." There was great rejoicing over this announcement.

Mose came from the hotel with a big bucket of ice cold
lemonade and a big waiter of cake and served it with the com-
pliments of Mrs. Baxter.

84 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

Joe did many stunts that called forth bursts of delighted
applause, and the boys left Jack, happy and full of hope.

The night school, taught in the Y. M. C. A. hall, was a
success from the beginning. Many men and several girls, attend-
ed; prizes were offered and competition, always a great spur,
kept them busy and interested. The months rolled on. Nellie
had gone and Xmas was again drawing near.

Xmas Eve Jack received a card from the express office
stating that a large box was there for him.

"There must be some mistake," said Jack to Mose. "I
haven't ordered anything and I know that no one has sent me
anything."

"Bettah run erlong an' see, lil Marse ; I 'spec it am old Santa
fur shore. Maby Miss Nellie in dat box, ha ! ha ! I seed how she
look when she tole you good bye. I knows sh's des' a little
older'n you is — 'bout a year — but dat ain' nuffin. Go long boy,
an' git yo' Xmas," and Mose shook with laughter as he watched
the red blood mount to Jack's white forehead.

"Now Mose, you know I don't like girls," pleaded Jack, very
much embarrassed.

"You'll git over dat, bime by, honey." An' whoop-pee ! when
you do git to be a man you gwine ter be des lak de Armstrongs.
An' when you falls in love fur shore, it's gwin ter des saterate
plum through ye. Lawd! sich courtin' as de Armstrongs could
do. Dey ain't none of 'em lef now. Your ma's last brother
died with a broke hart cause de gal he loved turn him down fur
a rich old man."

"Well, I'll never let a girl give me any trouble," retorted
Jack, and Mose laughed heartily.

"Well go on an' git yo' Xmas. chile," he insisted, and Jack
hitched one of the horses to the buggy, and drove to town.

He returned in about an hour, and Mose was astonished to
see what a long box he carried. It was about six feet long and
four feet wide, but not very deep.

"If it wuz deeper it would look des lak a coffin box," thought
Mose, as he hurried out to meet Jack.

"Lil' Marse, what is it?"

Don't have the least idea, Mose, and somehow I don't want
to open it. I'm just trembling. Feel like something has hap-
pened— or is going to happen. Oh, Mose, what do you suppose
it is? It came from Chicago."

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 85

"Bes' and quickest way to fin' out is to open de box," said
Mose, as Jack put the box on the barn floor."

"You open it, Mose, somehow I don't want to. I'm afraid.
I feel like I'm at a funeral." Mose was a little affected by Jack's
nervousness, but made no sign. He got a hammer, and lifted the
boards. All they could see was packing. This was soon removed,
then there was a sheet of felt which covered the entire contents.

Jack was on one side, of the box, and Mose on the other.
Jack hesitated a moment and with trembling hands drew away
the last covering. For one moment he gazed breathless with
amazement. Mose, too, was speechelss and leaned forward with
clasped hands. "It's Mama ! A portrait of my beautiful, angel
mother," sobbed Jack. "Oh, where could it have come from,"
and with tender care he lifted the lovely picture in its massive
oak and gold frame, leaned his face against it and wept.

"Praise de Lawd! Honey doan ye cry — 'pears to me you
ort to be rejoicin. Hit des lak Mis' Evleyn, an' you, — you ain't
noticed dat you's on dar too, is you ? But whar did it cum f rum ?
Dat shore am won puzzle."

The portrait was in natural colors, and though Jack was not
and artist he could see that it was very expensive and a great
triumph in art.

"Mother, my mother ! Dear angel mother,( did you send me
this from the skies?" Jack murmured, pressing kiss after kiss
on the beautiful face, while Mose ever and anon, exclaimed,
"Praise de Lawd !"

The picture showed Jack and his mother, when he was about
three years old. She was dressed in white and her abundant
golden hair tastefully arranged. She had just risen from a rustic
seat on the lawn and was meeting Jack with outstretched hands,
and a world of mother-love shining on her smiling face as Jack
barefooted and in gingham rompers, came forward with his
straw hat full of fluffy young chickens. In the background were
June roses, and cape jessamine, — with spots of golden sunlight
sifting through the giant oak trees.

"Where, oh where, did it come from?" Jack kept repeating.

"It shore am strange," agreed Mose. "I 'members mighty
well when dat pictur wuz tuck, but Mis' Evelyn los' it, or some-
body stole it, an it never could be foun'. She use ter lay things
down an' den forgit whar she put 'em, but de house wuz sarched
high an' low, off an' on, long as she lived, fur dat pictur, an' it

86 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

des wern't dar, nowhare. But praise de Lawd! Hit des went
off an' growed a heap bigger an' den cum to you fur a Xmas
gif ! Hit's de Unseen Han' honey, a workin' fur ye."

"An' Mose, I'm not worthy. Oh! I wish I were good and
could feel like you do about dying. But I'd be afraid to die,"
and Jack shivered. "This is too beautiful to keep in the barn —
but oh, I want to keep it in my room, where I can look at it the
first thing in the morning and the last thing at night — my beauti-
ful mother!"

""Well, chile, keep it dar. Yo' room des as nice as any in
de hotel. An' yo' kin git a purty scarf an' kiver it durin' de day,
to keep all de dus' off."

One of the little Baxter children, with hands full of Xmas
cookies, came to the door and called:

"Here's a letter for you, Jack." Mose went forward and
took the letter, and the child hurried back.

"Mo' supprises, maybe, lil' Marse," he grinned. Jack took
the portrait into his room and tenderly laid it on the bed.

"Maybe this will explain the picture," he said, taking the
letter. "No — why — it's from home — they've found out where
I am — somebody has ; maybe it's from Bud Iugram."

Jack tore the letter open, read a few lines then turned to
the signature which was, "Your heart-broken Step-mother," then
he staggered to* a pile of sweet hay and sank down upon it,
exchaiming :

"Mose, it's from Mis' Florence! Listen."

"Dear Jack: I found out through the papers where you
had drifted, and I am glad that fate has been kind to you. Arthur
is well, but refuses to forgive you. A few weeks ago, while
turning the leaves of an old musty book, I found a photagraph
of your mother and you. I remember how you grieved over
the loss of your mother's enlarged portrait and I have had one
made for you which I feel that you will prize even more highly.
I ordered the artist to ship it so it would reach you Xmas eve.

"Jack, I am a lonely, sorrowing woman. Arthur is growing
wilder and more reckless every day, and — he — is not kind and
loving as he used to be. My heart goes out to you with longing
and regret. I wish it were possible for you to come home and
stay, but it would be disagreeable to us both, and is not to be
thought of. Tell Mose that Sallie has another baby. They are
all well.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 87

"Hope you'll enjoy Xmas, and that you will forgive

"Your heartbroken step-mother,

"Flora LeGrande."

"That sounds sincere, Mose — she must indeed be changed,"
said Jack softly. "How good of her to send me such a thought-
ful present. She is sorry — I know she is."

With his old face quivering with emotion and his body
swaying to and fro, Mose softly sang in a deep, rich voice :

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise him all creatures here below.
Praise him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost."

CHAPTER XL

Christmas, with its beautiful Sunday school Christmas tree,
had come again, but the most interesting part of the program
was the awarding of prizes to those who had been faithful in the
night school. The spinning room boys, urged on by the energetic
spirits of Jack and Steve, who were the recognized leaders, had
made a record. The teachers were proud of their classes and in
short-to-the-point talks, commended the students for their regu-
lar attendance and complimented them on their progress.

Even grown men, who the past June could not read a word
or write their names, were now able to do both. Jack and Steve
came in for a big share of the praise. They had become close
friends and each delighted to see the other honored. All the
boys of the night school between the ages of 15 and 18 were pre-
sented with string instruments, and when Mr. Nixon handed out
the last of the 20 pieces, he looked around in a comical way,
scratched his head and said :

"I didn't know these young rascals had it in for me like this!
I never dreamed when I made this proposition, that more than
a half dozen boys would win. That was about the size of my
pocket. When I realized what I was up against, I aopealed
to the resident for help, telling him that I was in the middle of
a bad fix ! And what do you suppose he said? Why, just this :

' 'Nixon, the Company will back you in anything that per-
tains to the welfare of our operatives. Money spent for educa-
tional purposes is well invested. It's the reading class of help that
gives best service. They intelligently perform their duties, and

88 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

have higher ideals; they don't look upon Capital as a monster,
eager for their life blood, but cheerfuly perform their tasks,
accept the wages agreed upon, live honestly, walk uprightly and
are held in high esteem by their overseers. That's alright,
Nixon, — go ahead. Educate the people. The company will stand
at your back in anything you wish to do for our employees.' :
This brought great applause from the packed church.

Steve, Jack and four other boys received violins. The rest
received mandolins, banjos, harps and guitars. Prof. Austin, from
the city had been employed to teach the boys music, and after the
holidays this part of their education would begin in earnest. They
would meet two evenings every week. The regular night school
met three times a week, so Saturday evening was all the time the
boys had to "throw away." They soon became so enraptured
with their music, that even on Saturday nights they preferred
to practice, rather than loaf the streets, or attend shows.

Now, let us pay a little visit to "Mis' Florence." A few days
after Christmas Arthur came striding into her presence, almost
drunk and in a terrible passion. Taking an open letter from
his pocket he dashed it at her and exclaimed:

"So you've actually written to that young devil! And what
kind of a Christmas present did you send him? I've a good notion
to visit the darned fool and pay him back for the scar I carry!"
and Arthur clenched his fist and struck the center table furiously.
"Mis' Florence" saw and realized that her boy was under the in-
fluence of whiskey. A great terror sized her heart and she stag-
gered to her feet, the letter clutched in her hand, and her face
white with anguish.

"Oh, my boy, my boy ! You have been drinking. God have
mercy on me — this is more than I can bear !" she cried.

"Take a little drink, mumsey, and you'll get back your
nerve," and Arthur drew a bottle from his pocket and shook it in
her face, as she shrank from him. He then caught sight of the
letter, and commanded her to "read it out," and in mortal terror
she obeyed:

"Dear Mrs. Florence :

"I prize the present you sent me more than anything I ever
possessed. It certainly was a surprise, and when I look at it my
heart is melted with tenderness. I cherish no ill will against
you or Arthur. My father had a perfect right to do as he pleased

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 89

with his property. He gave it to you, and you are wecome to it."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Arthur. "Wonder what he'd say if he
knew? How does it make a person feel, mumsey, to go through
dead men's clothes and destroy wills? Ha, ha! Say, don't
glare at me like that, darn it ! What's the matter with you, any-
how?" "Mis' Florence" bit her lips, and her black eyes snapped
with some of their old-time spirit :

"Arthur, I don't know how people feel after destroying wills.
I—"

"Oh, you don't?" sneeringly.

"No, I do not," very emphatically.

"That's right! A lie or two more or less doesn't matter.
But go on with the reading!" And Arthur sank in a chair and
waved his hand imperiously. "Go on, I say!' and the poor
mother had no alternative but to obey:

"I'm sorry Arthur is still bitter against me. Surely, I suf-
fered enough during the two years that I thought he was dead
by my hand. If any one ever bitterly repented for a rash, mad
act, I have — but I must confess that until now, I have been bitter
against you.

" 'It may all be for the best at last. Certainly I am getting
along better than if I had stayed at home. I can't regret coming
here. My life is full, and happy. For several months — ever since
Mose came and told me about Aunt Dilsie's death, — I have hun-
gred and thirsted for that sweet and simple trust in God's good-
ness that made her death triumphant, but peace would not come
into my heart.

" 'I know now, it was because I had an unforgiving spirit —
I had envy and jealousy in my heart. I was bitter against you,
more than against Arthur. My heart was broken when I looked
on the priceless gift you sent, and while Uncle Mose san Traise
God from Whom All Blessings Flow' I was emptied of self, and
filled with the spirit of Christ. Now, sweet peace abides with
me.' "

A deep snore came from the depths of the chair, and "Mis'
Florence" paused, held her breath for a moment, then whispered :
"Thank God, he's asleep !"

Softly leaving the room she went to her bed-room and locked

90 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

herself in. Falling on her knees by the bed, she buried her hot
face in her hands.

"How can I bear it — Oh God, how can I bear it? For love
of my child I've steeped my soul in guilt; and he, knowing my
sins, dares taunt me with them! Ive lost his love — he doesn't
even respect me — he is drunk — going straight to the devil — fol-
lowing in my footsteps!" she wailed brokenly.

"God pity me! I'm ruined, wretched, and undone! Jack
has forgiven me — oh, God, won't you?" Instantly there came
the haunting voice of conscience :

"Flora, where is my child? Give Jack his rights!" and she
answered :

"It's too late — I can't — I can't! Besides Jack is happier
where he is, he says so himself. No ,no, I can't undo what has
been done — Arthur would leave me — he might kill me ! Oh, my
boy, my boy ! to think I should ever live to see the day when you
would sneer in my face."

Sallie was busy in another part of the house, and her voice
rose in song:

"Ole Satan got a mortgage on yo' soul
De Lawd'll pay it off ef ye turn ;
Yo betah put yo 'name on de ransome roll
Don't yer gwine ter go to hell en burn !"
"Mis' Florence" stuck her fingers in her ears to shut out the
chorus :

"Blow, Gabul, blow!

My sins done washed away.
De Lawd's done tuck my mawgage up —
I ain't got nothing to pay."

"Mis' Florence" was now reaping as she had sown. She
had sinned, now she must suffer. To have lost the love and
respect of her idolized boy, was the most terrible punishment
that could have overtaken her, yet it was only the natural out-
come of her own folly. It was not the last time she saw ner
boy come home drunk — and not the last time that she went down
on her knees in agony before her God. But she did not approach
Him in an acceptable manner. She did not want to make resti-
tution, or, if she did wish to do so, her fear of Arthur held her in
check.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 91

The news of Jack's wonderful present was soon broadcast,
and his friends from all over the village came to see and admire
the lovely portrait. Even Mr. Jones and Superintendent Nixon
had come and stood before it with bare heads and dim eyes as
Jack drew back the pretty scarf which covered it.

The weeks and months, each more or less alike, lengthened
into years. The night school was kept up all the time except
through July and August, when the different churches held their
annual protracted meetings. But even during these months,
though Jack was a faithful church worker, he did not neglect his
studies. It was astonishing how many odd moments he found
in which to satisfy his craving for knowledge. The progress of
all the night school students was a subject of much comment.

"The Boys' Band" was beginning to attract attention, and
receive compliments. Prof. Austin had given several concerts
in the Y. M. C. A. hall and the boys had acquitted themselves
with great credit. At such times Superintendent Nixon was
almost beside himself, with joy and pride ,and made rousing
speeches, in which he never failed to point to Jack and declare
that he was the inspiration — the leader, in this move for edu-
cation.

"Little did I think," Mr. Nixon would say, "that the little
pale-faced, delicate, hungry boy, who came to my office window
a few years ago, pleading for work, would cause such a revolution
for good in our community. There's not a boy in the village who
is not better through his influence. Joe, too, has contributed
much to the pleasure of us all, and is a living proof of what love
and kindness may accomplish, even with brutes. Mose, the dear
old faithful, slavery negro, whose devotion to his little master
caused him to leave home and children, and who for two long
weary years traveled over the Carolinas in search of the boy
he had nursed from infancy, is loved by every man, woman and
child in the village. Though 70 years old, Mose is still hale and
hearty; I hope he'll live to be as old as Methusalah. But when
he does fold his toil-hardened hands across the most faithful
heart that ever beat — a heart as pure and stainless as any that
ever beat beneath a fairer skin — he should have a snow white
marble monument erected to his memory, so tall that it would
pierce the skies, and on that monument should be given a com-
plete history of his life, that coming generations, both white and
colored, might read and be thrilled with his greatness !"

92

ONLY A FACTORY BOY

This would bring down the house with applause, while eyes
were streaming with tears. Old Mose, on a back seat, would rise
and bow his thanks, and say in a trembling old voice :

"Mars Nixon, thankee — but I ain't done nuffin to desarve no
sich! I des a po' ignerant niggah wid mo' love in my ha'rt den
sense in my head. 'Deed, I'se been a bad niggah. Des bury me
by my Dilsie when I die — dat's all I axe. Des give dat muniment
to po' ole Joe what brung me to lil Marse, at las', when I had gin
him up and started home."

JACK AND STEVE

Jack was twenty years old when the spinning room second
hand took sick and he was asked to fill the man's place until he
could return to work. The poor man died, and as Jack had given
the very best of satisfaction, he was promptly given the
position.

Steve Laney had for several months been spare section hand,
and he was given Jack's section. There were not two happier
boys in Georgia when this promotion came, though they were

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 93

grieved over the death of the good man which brought the
change about.

This was to be an eventful Summer for Jack and Steve. Early
in May the Junior Baraca Class had elected Jack president, and
Steve secretary and treasurer. The class was growing in num-
bers and doing great good. They took special collections for the
sick and afflicted, and each week a committee visited those who
were in distress. Mr. Nixon was the beloved teacher of the
class, and put his whole soul into the work. He knew that these
boys were "the salt of the earth" — that in the future when they
should go out to fill their places in the world, they would be an

honor to the mill town of A as well as an honor to their

Maker. The whole village was thrilled with the good influences
brought to bear upon it through the works of the churches and
the pastors did not have to preach to empty benches. It was very
seldom that a family moved away.

Mr. and Mrs. Baxter were counting the days until Nellie's
return from college. She would be home early in June, finished.
Baxter often laughed and declared he was glad she was "finished"
for her school expenses had about finished him.

Ina, too, was coming home to spend vacation. She had
spent the past year in college, and this was her first visit home.
Mr. and Mrs. Nixon were making great preparations for the
return of their only and idolized child, and all the village was
eagerly looking forward to having these two bright girls home
again. They had been greatly missed from church and Sun-
day school. They would be home in time to attend the graded
school commencement. Several students would graduate and
it had been arranged that Jack should have part in the graduat-
ing exercises, as he had finished a special course with honors.

He had pleaded to be left out, but Mr. Nixon insisted,
declaring that he deserved public honors and besides, it would
encourage the other boys, who like Jack, had only been to the
night schools. Mr. Nixon had arranged with the school board
and teachers, so that Jack should graduate with just as much
honor as any of the graded school students.

Jack was to speak, recite, or read a piece, but no one
knew what it was to be, as he had insisted on selecting his own
subject and kept it secret. He spent much time and thought
on it. He was not without pride and ambition, and wanted to
do credit to Mr. Nixon as well as to himself. Besides — Nellie

94 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

and Ina would be there. He must show them that he had made
good use of his time and had taken advantage of the opportuni-
ties afforded him for improvement.

Jack knew that he had "fought a good fight." He had
won against odds, and he was proud of his record — he had a
right to be. But, he was the same gentle, tender, affectionate
Jack — not the least high-minded or boastful, and there was not
a boy in the village who was not proud of his success.

Nellie came home a day earlier than had been expected.
She was very attractive and greatly accomplished and Jack
was almost bewildered by her bewitching beauty and charming
manners. Her slender figure in simple and becoming attire,
gave no promise of ever attaining the wonderful proportions
of her mother's, and there was a world of expression in her
deep gray eyes, as they rested on Jack's handsome face, and
manly form.

At supper she asked Jack to bring his violin and they would
try some music together, and with his heart in his throat Jack
went to his room for the instrument.

Taking a survey of himself in the glass, he was dismayed
to find that his collar was a little soiled, and he exchanged it
for a clean one and put on his prettiest tie. He took especial
pains with his hair, too, beautiful dark gold hair it was now,
that at all other times was so easily arranged, but on this
particular evening, seemed impossible to manage.

Joe watched his master in some perplexity and anxiety.
He knew that it wasn't Sunday, and that Jack was not going
to church. He looked up into his master's face and whined
questioningly, but Jack, busy with his hair, paid no attention.
Then Joe howled and Jack turned to look at him and read the
expression in the soft brown eyes. Instantly he knelt and threw
his arms about the dog's neck.

"Joe, old boy, don't you worry. You shall go with me. I
love you better than anyone in the wide, wide world — you and
Mose. No one shall ever come between us," and Joe was
satisfied.

Then Jack picked up his beloved violin, and with Joe by
his side, went to the hotel, and entered the parlor finding
Nellie at the piano.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 95

CHAPTER XII.

Old Mose saw Jack enter the parlor, and a smile of satisfac-
tion blossomed on the wrinkled black face.

"Lil' Marse gettin' dar now. 'Taint gwine ter be long fo'
I see him in de swim same es any dese here genelmans. Yah!
ha, ha!" he laughed, as he made his way out to the barn. "Miss
Nellie sho' am won purty gal — an' dat ain't all — she's a good
gal. Whoopee! If lil' Marse des had de LeGrande plantation
now to offer long wid hissef. Hit des a shame dat he ain't got
it — it's his'n. I des a gret mind to see some o' dem know-it-alls
at de cote house, an axe 'em to 'splain some law to me. But
no — Marse Jack wouldn't take it away frum Mis' Florence after
his paw done gin it to her — and tain't no use."

Joe lay down in the porch just outside the open window,
listening to the music and waited for Jack. Several of the
boarders, and part of the family joined the couple in the parlor,
and all were enraptured over the melody of these young voices
as they blended together harmoniously and in perfect chord
with the piano and violin.

After awhile Nellie and Jack were left alone. They played
a few more pieces together, then Nellie closed the piano, saying :

"Jack, you have a wonderfully musical voice. We must
play and sing together often — if you like — but now let's talk.
It seems ages since we parted — and oh, I am so glad to be
home again."

"I have certainly missed you, Nellie, and I too, am glad you
are home to stay. It will be a real treat to practice singing
and music with you," and Jack led Nellie from the piano stool
to the sofa and seated himself by her side, wondering if she
could hear the wild -throbbing of his heart.

Jack had never had time to think of girls, and was now in
the presence of one bewitchingly beautiful and accomplished.
It seemed hard to talk of school and books and common every-
day subjects, when he was almost intoxicated with his first
taste of social life.

Yet, Nellie was so interested in his success, and so pleased
to have him confide in her, Jack found that he was soon pouring
into her dainty ears all his trials and troubles, all his fights
and victories.

96 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"Oh, Jack, how glad I am that I shall see you graduate.
When you appear on the stage I am going to throw a boquet
of flowers at you."

"Please don't, Nellie, — but give me that rosebud you wear,
right now," said Jack bending over her and looking into her
sparkling eyes.

Nellie laughed: "So you just order girls around, do you?
I won't give it to you unless you ask your very prettiest."

"And how is that?" Jack asked, half laughing. "I won't
beg for it."

"Bed time, Nellie," called her mother, and they both rose
from the sofa.

"Alright, mama, I'm coming," answered Nellie. They were
both standing near the open window now, and with a saucy
look, half pouting, half defiant, wholly daring, Nellie took the
rose from her breast, walked to Jack, and pinned it on his coat.

"Thak you: little girl — now I know it's a free will offering
and I shall prize it more," and he caught her hand and held it,
lingering over the parting word. It seemed so hard to say
"good night." Why he had only had her to himself but one
little hour.

"I must thank you, Nellie for the happiest evening of my
life."

"Then I hope there are other evenings just as happy,
Jack," and she looked up into his face with an arch smile. Jack
trembled. He felt an insane desire to crush her in his arms
and probably would have yielded to the temptation, but just
at that moment Joe struck his head through the, window, caught
Jack by the coat tail and pulled.

Jack dropped Nellie's hand, stepped through the window
and hurried toward his room, feeling a little angry with his
faithful dog.

Half way to the barn, some one tapped him on the arm.
It was Steve Laney, and Jack knew at once that something
was wrong.

"What is it, Steve," asked Jack, seriously.

"You!" exclaimed Steve, trembling and in a choked voice.
"Jack, I've loved Nellie all her life — don't come between us.
If you care a darned thing for me- if you are the honorable
gentleman you claim to be,- play fair— give me a chance."

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 97

"Steve, what do you mean? I didn't know you loved Nellie
— you have never told me. And — and does she love you?"

"I don't suppose she does — I did not know I cared for
her for all time and eternity, but I do. I knew it when I saw
her come up from the depot today. She gave me a red rose,
too, at Sunday school once — that's when I began loving her.
Then she went off to school and I settled down to study —
because I wanted to be worthy to address her when school
days were over. You've been a good friend to me Jack, but
I think I should want to kill you if you took Nellie away from
me."

"So you have never courted her — she doesn't know your
feelings — does not care for you — and you come to me crying
"hands off," just as if she belonged to you," retorted Jack, a
little hurt. "I think you are unreasonable, Steve."

"Maybe I am, Jack, but it's because I love her. Good
night," and Steve walked away, a bitter, jealous pain in his
heart.

Jack stopped and spoke to his dog:

"Joe, did you know? Was that why you stopped me? Did
Steve see, and would have killed me? Oh, Joe, Joe, a few
moments ago I was happy, now I am miserable — and so is
poor Steve. It must be turture to love a girl like that. And
she gave him a red rose, too."

Jack's dreams were troubled that night. He was haunted
by a pair of gray eyes, and by the misery pictured in the dark
face of Steve Laney, his best friend.

Next day Steve ran his section and Jack filled his place
as second hand, each studiously avoiding the other. This was
Wednesday, and during the afternoon Jack was standing in
the big alley, when he saw the superintendent coming toward
him, accompanied by a vision of girlish beauty in a white dress
and crimson sash and hair ribbons, that was wonderfully
becoming to her rich complexion, dark hair and eyes. This
was Ina Nixon, slender, petite, and graceful as a young fawn,
the most tantalizingly beautiful creature imaginable.

With a glad smile wreathing her crimson lips, she came
straight to Jack, giving him her soft little hand, and congratu-
lating him on his promotion and on his success in school.

"Better look out, Daddy, Jack will be wanting your place
next," she warned her father. Mr. Nixon, looking at Jack's

98 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

manly figure and handsome features, and noting the admiration
in his Irish blue eyes as they rested on the lovely Ina felt
a little disturbed, but not over the thought of losing his office.

"And how is dear Joe?" asked Ina. Jack smiled appre-
ciatively :

"Joe is getting old and feeble, but still takes care of me,"
he answered, feeling that he would like to hug Joe and Steve
Laney, too. "Yes, Joe is getting old — is nearly eleven years
old. I know he can't live many more years. If the death angel
visits him first, I shall be terribly lonely," and the sweet brown
eyes were full of sympathy.

"And Uncle Mose — is he still hale and hearty?"

"Yes, thank you, he looks just about the same, and seems
just as lively. He is the greatest old darkey in the world," said
Jack.

"And Nellie has already come. I'm sorry she beat me
home," and in his heart Jack was saying, "and I am sorry,
too. Had I seen you first I would not have made a fool of
myself, or wounded my best friend."

"Everything running nicely, Jack?" asked Mr. Nixon,
feeling that he must say something.

"Oh, yes, not a hitch anywhere. Those new frames are
giving complete satisfaction, now."

"Ready to go, pet?" asked her father, and Ina, nodding
her dark curls to Jack, passed out, saying:

"I'll see you get your diploma Friday night, Mr. LeGrande,"
and Jack watched her disappear through the doorway, with a
queer tugging at his heart strings.

When she had gone he stood and stared after her, his
brain reeling. Then after a few moments he drew a deep
sigh, turned and walked swiftly towards Steve's section. Steve
was standing at an open window, looking down toward the
hotel, a despairing expressin in his dark eyes. Jack ran his
arm through Steve's and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Steve
caught his breath, and bit his lips, but gave no other sign
that he had noticed Jack's advances. Jack spoke; and there
was a world of love in his voice:

"Steve, don't worry. Nothing shall come between us, or
mar the beauty of our friendship. Even if I loved Nellie, I'd
never try to win her from ray best friend. But Steve, I don't
love her — I never shall. I know now what love is, and I can

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 99

sympathize with you. I was almost carried off my feet last
night by Nellie's beauty and charm, but it wasn't love — and I
have Joe to thank that I did not make a complete ass of myself."

Steve had now turned and was looking into Jack's face
eagerly.

"You mean it, Jack? You don't love Nellie? You won't
try to win her? Little chance would I have — I know that — if
you should seek her favor. But I'm afraid you are just giving
her up, for friendship's sake — seems to me that you are bound
to love her. I'm sorry I was so nasty last night. But I was
passing— I couldn't help seeing her pin that rose on your coat-
and the way you both looked — I just couldn't stand it. For-
give me, Jack," Steve stammered.

"There's nothing to forgive, Steve. Here's my hand. Go in
and win. I shall be Nellie's friend — nothing more. Good luck
to you," and as Steve crushed his hand, Jack felt a load lifted
from his heart.

Jack excused himself that night when Nellie again invited
him to practice music, saying that he must do some work to-
ward getting ready for the commencement. He knew that
Steve was to call on Nellie that evening, yet he saw that she was
disappointed when he offered excuses.

It was late when he retired and it seemed that he had only
closed his eyes, when Joe nudged him in the side, continuously,
then pulled at him. What could be the matter? Joe never
made a mistake.

Ah ! some one was stealthily opening the stable door — some
one was stealing Mr. Baxter's five hundred dollar buggy horse.
Jack sprang lightly from bed, jerked on his pants and rushed
out, just as a dark form leaped upon the horse's back and dashed
toward the gate leading to the big road.

"Go for him. Joe," hissed Jack, at the same time springing
forward after the thief. Joe needed no second bidding — his
fighting blood was up. He sprang like a panther upon the
horse's back, buried his fangs in the man's shoulders and to-
gether they fell from the back of the frightened horse, rolling
at Jack's feet.

In the darkness Jack could not distinguish man from beast.
Suddenly the man rose with Joe fastened to his back and Jack
grappled with him. There was the quick flash of a knife and
while Jack dealt a terrible blow squarely between the man's

100 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

eyes, he felt the keen steel enter his side. Both fell together,
and though Joe's teeth were old and he feeble, he fought with
all the vigor of youthful days.

The thief, wielding the terrible knife cut and slashed un-
mercifully, while Jack, growing weaker and weaker from loss
of blood, fought with his bare hands.

Presently all was still, and there was only the tramping of
the horse as it wandered about the lot, frightened over the smell
of blood. No one had been awakened. None knew of the ter-
rible thing that had happened, or dreamed of what the morning
light would reveal.

CHAPTER XIII.

"Well!" exclaimed Mrs. Baxter in surprise, as she looked
into the kitchen, and saw no fire in the range. "I wonder what
is the matter with Jack? Goodness knows, he don't have to
make fires, but he's always insisted on doing it, and this is the
first time he has ever overslept. Poor boy, he is studyin' too
hard, tryin' to get ready for the big-to-do, and no wonder he
couldn't wake." Mrs. Baxter jerked the lids off the range in a
hurry, piled in the wood, added a dash of kerosene and the fire
was soon roaring and ready for the cook.

Just then she heard Mose and looking from the window she
saw him running toward the house, gesticulating wildly and
preaching and praying, she couldn't understand which, and
acting as if he had gone crazy. Mose came tumbling on, and
was soon in the yard, and near enough to be understood:

"Murder! Murder! Bloody murder!"

"Gawd a-mighty !" he cried, "Marse Jack an' Joe done been
murdered. Somebody come quick! Lawd in heben, come take
ole Mose, too! I doan want to lib no longer," he shrieked. "I
done let somebody kill mah chile!"

Mrs. Baxter jumped from the low window, screaming as
she ran, and Mr. Baxter, hearing the alarm, turned out bare-
footed and gave chase, with Nellie in a kimona, bringing up the
rear, her face white with terror and anguish.

What they found in the barnyard froze the blood in their
veins. There lay Jack, cold and silent in a puddle of blood, and
just. a few feet away lay the thief, with Joe's teeth clenched in
his throat. The faithful dog, covered in blood, relaxed his hold
as Mr. Baxter drew near, whined piteously, crawled weakly uo

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 101

the side of his master, and began licking the pale face with
his pink tongue, and setting up a dismal howl when he failed
to get a responsive caress or word of affection.

"Phone for the police and all the doctors," shrieked Mrs.
Baxter, shaking her husband. "Go quick. Oh, it can't be that
our dear Jack is dead," and with a sob and a prayer, Baxter
moved with the greatest rapidity of his life to execute orders.
Nellie dropped down on the ground and lifted Jack's head in
her lap, sobbing, but not hysterically.

"Bring some water, mother — call for Ned — or somebody.
We must save Jack and Joe, — oh, Jack, dear Jack, speak to
Nellie," and the girl bent and kissed his brow, bathing his face
in her tears.

In an incredibly short time, the faithful telephone had
spread the news. Breakfast was forgotten at Baxter Heights.
Superintendent Nixon, his wife and Ina were soon among the
crowd which gathered at the scene of the most terrible tragedy
the town had ever known. The mill whistle blew, but so few
went to work that the "wheels stopped" until noon.

Two doctors arrived in an auto, totally disregarding speed
limit, and after a hurried examination, shook their heads
gravely.

"The stranger is dead," they said, "and Jack cannot pos-
sibly live — he's lost too much blood. There's just a spark of
life — just a little flickering of the pulse that is almost imper-
ceptible. Oh, if he could have been found sooner."

"Doctor, for God's sake, don't say Jack must die. He
shan't die!" cried Steve Laney, falling on his knees by Jack's
side. "Oh, doctor, I've heard how blood can be fused into one —
take me, take my blood and give to Jack," baring his strong
muscular arm and holding it out entreatingly.

Nellie's eyes brightened as she looked up at Steve, and she
whispered :

"God bless you, Steve — oh, God bless you! How good you
are."

"And I am strong and healthy — if a girl's blood can give
him strength give him mine," cried Ina, clasping the doctor's
arm. "Doctor, he must not die — our noble Jack — he shall not
die," she sobbed.

"We'll do all we can. Let's get him to the house."

102 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"The hotel is too noisy — take him to my house," commanded
the superintendent, and Ina gave him a smile of thanks.

"Oh, we can't consent to that," began Mrs. Baxter, but the
doctor silenced all objection by declaring that Jack must have
absolute quiet, and ordered that he be carried to Mr. Nixon's
home.

In the meantime another doctor had arrived and was caring
for Joe as tenderly as if he had been a human being, having
been told by Baxter that no time or money must be spared in
his efforts to save the dog. And while Jack was being moved
so tenderly on a stretcher, the doctors were making a careful
but hurried analysis of his blood and Steve's in order to see
if the two would blend properly, and were delighted to find the
trial a success.

There was a glad, hopeful light in Steve's dark eyes as he
stood by the bed of his friend and gave of his heart's blood to
save him from death. Nellie and Ina paced the carpeted hall
outside the door, their arms around each other as they waited
in agony and suspense for a word of hope from the doctors,
who were so busy inside. Mose knelt by the door and prayed
for the Death Angel to "pass on by," just as he had prayed
when Jack struggled with pneumonia years before.

"Oh, poor Jack — there's no commencement exercises — no
graduation with honors now for him," said Nellie in a choked
voice.

"No, not now, but oh. what a hero he is. Why that thief
was a large, powerful man, fully fifty pounds heavier than Jack,
yet the dear boy fought him with his bare fists, and saved your
father's horse from being stolen. If it had not been for Joe,
though, the man might have killed Jack," said Ina shuddering.

"I wish Jack had not known. I wish the man had gotten
the horse and gone, rather than this should have happened.
Oh, if Jack and Joe should die," groaned Nellie.

"Don't say it. Nellie — Jack must not, shall not, die. Steve
will save him— let's pray silently that we shall soon hear good
news from the doctor. Let's pray for Joe, too. It would kill
Jack to lose him." And arm in arm, with white faces, bowed
heads and aching hearts, the girls walked up and down the hall
sending up silent petitions to heaven for the restoration of Jack
and Joe, pausing to pat old Mose on the head, and speak to him

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 103

comfortingly as they passed the bowed figure, writhing in
anguish.

The porch and lawn were full to overflowing with people,
who waited anxiously for hopeful news of the beloved Jack and
Joe. Their good qualities were discussed in whispers and in
voices choked with emotions. How they were loved.

Joe had been given a cot in Jack's room, and Mrs. Nixon
and Mrs. Baxter were assisting the doctor to bathe and dress
his wounds, which were many. It seemed countless hours, before
the door opened and Mrs. Nixon came out, softly closing it be-
hind her. Mose and the girls rushed forward holding their
breath, longing, yet dreading to hear — fearing the worst.

"Please, mistis — for Gawd's sake, give us good news," and
old Mose clasped his hands entreatingly, shrinking at the first
sound of her voice.

"His pulse is a little stronger, but it will take some time
yet. Steve will save him, the doctor thinks, and I have never
seen such joy as that pictured on Steve's face, as he heard the
verdict," said Mrs. Nixon, putting an arm around each girl,
for both looked ready to faint. Mose fell on his knees and lifted
his clasped hands while tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks :

Hebenly Marster! I thanks Ye. I wuz a bad niggah to not
wake up to help lil* Marse an You's mighty good to not let me
die under sich a burden o' guilt an' shame as dat. Thank ye,
good Lawd ! Thank ye ! An' please doan' let old Mose sleep so
hard no more. Gin me health and strength to nuss mah chile
an' Joe back to health, den take me to Dilsie when ye see fit,"
he prayed, while Mrs. Nixon and the girls stood with heads
bowed reverently.

"It's going to be hard on Steve, though," continued Mrs.
Nixon, "for it will take a lot of blood to revive Jack. The dear
boy's life was oh, so nearly gone. I shudder to think of what
even five minutes more would have meant." Nellie turned even
whiter as she whispered :

"God bless Steve — he is a hero, too."

"Mama, can't I take Steve's place?" Ina asked, wistfully.
I'd like to do it — please let me."

"No, darling, Steve vows that he'll give every drop of blood
that he can spare and live, and that no one shall take his
place. His love for Jack is the most beautiful thing I have
ever seen."

104 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"Jack would have done the same for Steve, I'm sure,"
declared Nellie. "Their devotion to each other is something
unusual, and very remarkable."

"Now tell us about Joe," Ina asked.

"I can hardly say — but we try to hope for the best. He
was cut unmercifully — took many a thrust that was aimed at
poor Jack, no doubt. We got his wounds nicely dressed, and oh,
he was so patient and seemed so grateful. He doesn't act like
a dog at all, and obediently drank his medicine — lots better
than some people would."

"Yah, an 'dat dog's got a soul, too. Doan tell me Joe wont
go to heben, — kase if he doan day ain't none to go to — dat's all,"
declared Mose, and no one contradicted him.

Mrs. Baxter now came out, her face bright with hope, as she
brought more news :

"Yes, thank God, he's getting some color and his heart
beats stronger. The doctor told Steve that he had given enough
blood now, but Steve insisted on giving more — says he ain't
feelin' a bit weak — but he's gettin' mighty pale."

Nellie's gray eyes brightened with admiration and she
caught her breath in quick gasps.

Oh, I'm so glad — so glad," she faltered.

"I could just hug and kiss Steve," declared Ina, and Nellie
glanced at her apprehensively. "Can't we slip in just a second
and see Jack?" asked Ina. "We won't speak a word, and will
be quiet — oh, let us see him so we may forget the horror of his
pale bloody face — it's before my eyes all the time."

"And we want to see Steve — we want him to know how we
admire his courage and bravery. I don't delieve the doctors
would have* mentioned fusion if Steve had not suggested it,"
said Nellie.

"An' dey mus'n keep me out much longer — I des can't
stan' it," declared Mose. "My place is right side o' lil' Marse.
He'll want me."

"I'll see if the doctors will let you in," said Mrs. Nixon,
looking searchingly into the girls' faces and heaving a troubled
sigh.

Presently the girls and Mose were allowed to enter. The
operation was over, but Steve, weak and pale, still sat by the
bed and bent eagerly over his friend, who had not yet spoken,
but seemed to be resting. He did not look up as Nellie paused

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 105

by his side. Mose bent forward and gently stroked one of
Jack's hands. The pale lips moved and all listened for the
whisper :

"Nellie — " Steve dropped his face in his hands. Ina's dark
eyes grew darker, her cheeks paler. Nellie's hand fluttered to
her breast, — she seemed choked:

"Nellie, — take — back the rose. Give — it — to — Steve,"

came the weak voice, and Steve looked up searchingly, wistfully,
and questioningly into the girl's face. But Nellie was watching
Jack, who now raised his hands, holding them out entreatingly :

"Ina — dear little — brown-eyed pansy." Mrs. Nixon, in
great confusion, hurried Ina from the room, while Nellie, her
heart throbbing with contending emotions, hastily followed. Mr.
Nixon and Baxter looked at each other questioningly and
silently shook their heads. The doctors beamed at each other,
and one turned to Steve with congratulations :

"Young man, your friend owes his life to you." There's no
doubt now, that he'll get well, unless blood poisoning or other
complications set in. He's badly cut — but nicely fixed up now,
and we are sure he'll pull through. It's hard to kill a young man
who is in love, and has so much to live for," he added with
a smile.

"Mose," came a voice from the pillow, and Jack smiled
weakly into the old black face bending over him. "Where — is
—Joe?"

Joe heard the loved voice, whined and struggled feebly to
rise and go to his master. The poor dog was just a bundle of
bandages.

"We is bofe of us right here wid ye, HI' Marse, praise
Gawd," said old Mose, stroking the golden hair. Two of the
doctors lifted Joe, quilt and all, and placed him on the bed by
his master, and their eyes filled with tears over the dog's feeble
thanks, and Jack's appreciation.

"Did the thief — get — away?" Jack asked.

"No," cried Baxter, coming forward. "Joe killed him. The
police has got the skunk — whoever he is. He mighty ni finished
you Jack, but Joe saved you — Joe an' Steve."

"Steve?" and Steve bent over the patient, and spoke
soothingly :

"There, Jack, be quiet. I didn't do a darn thing, only

106 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

divided blood with you; you had leaked dry. Now, hush, go to
sleep and rest."

A world of love and gratitude shown in Jack's face and
clinging to Mose's hand on one side, and Steve's on the other,
he soon fell asleep with Joe's brown eyes eagerly watching him.

Nixon slipped out and joined his wife. Ina had retired to
her own room Mrs. Baxter and Nellie had dispersed the crowd,
sending them away hopeful for the recovery of Jack and Joe,
and they, too, had gone home.

"Well," choked Mrs. Nixon. "I'm sorry you brought Jack
here. He is in love with Ina."

"I believe he is — but is that anything so terrible? He's
the finest young man I know,' 'answered her husband, smiling.

"But they are too young— Ina has three years in school yet—
I'm afraid she won't finish," said the mother.

"Do you suppose she cares for Jack?"

"If she doesn't, she will — who wouldn't? Oh, I love Jack,
but I'll never let him or anyone have Ina — our only baby." Mrs.
Nixon burst into hysterical sobs, and her husband took her in
his arms, and tried to soothe her.

"There, dear, we won't cross the bridge until we get to it,"
he said. "But, if the children were old enough, we certainly
could not object. Let's think no more about it."

"I shall certainly take every precaution to keep Jack and
Ina apart. We'd better get a trained nurse, I think. She and
Nellie will want to take possession of the sick room. Nursing
a handsome patient is in itself a romanetic appeal to any girl.
It just won't do, dear," continued Mrs. Nixon.

The doctors now came from the sick room, and Mr. Nixon
hurried out in the hall to speak to them.

"How are our patients?" he asked.

Both resting beautifully. I guess we ought to apologize
for putting the dog in bed — but — "

"Not at all ,not at all, doctor. We hardly look on Joe as
a doe-. He's welcome to the best bed in the house," declared
Mr. Nixon.

"That he is," added Mrs. Nixon, joining them. "There
has never been such a dog as Joe, never such a devoted servant
as Mose, and — and never a finer young man than Jack. And
doctor — hadn't we better have a trained nurse?"

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 107

"I don't think it necessary. The young man, Steve, his
friend, declares he intends to nurse him, and, when Jack gets
stronger, visits from those two pretty girls will do him more
good than a trained nurse," added the doctor laughing.

The 'phone rang and Mr. Nixon answered :

"Hello! Police headquarters? Yes, this is Nixon. Doing
fine. Yes, Joe is resting, too. Doctors sure both will recover.
Nothing on the thief to identify him? Too bad. Yes, of course
— but if his people should see the ad. and know the circum-
stances, they'd hardly claim the body, I think. Yes? Alright —
Good-bye."

And the body of the thief, who was about 40 years old, was
never claimed and was finally buried, unknown.

CHAPTER XIV.

It was late Thursday afternoon when Jack opened his eyes,
looked around rationally and remembered.

"Tell me all about it," he begged, weakly, but persistently,
when at last all had left the room except Mose and Steve. It
was quite evident that he would not rest until possessed of the
details of the tragedy, and it was thought best to humor him.
Steve told him about it, making no mention of how he had given
his blood to restore his friend, and Mose chimed in :

"Dat ain't all, honey. Marse Steve seen you laying dar,
an' hearn de doctors say it too late — you's los' too much blood
an' boun' to die, an' he des up an' lammed his fis' in de doctor's
face an' yell fur him to go to work, you shan't die! Den he
made dat doctor man fix a curis kind o' pump on to him an'
dey pumped de blood outen Marse Steve rite into yo' veins,
till he wuz mitey ni ready to drap hisself an — "

"Oh, shut up, Mose," exclaimed Steve: "I never even
felt it — it wasn't anything to do — anyone would have done it."

"No, Steve, you are the only one in the wide world who
would have done such a thing for me," said Jack, with tears
in his eyes, reaching for Steve's hand.

"I would, Marse Jack, but I done dried up on de stalk —
ain't go no blood," said Mose.

"Yes, dear old Mose, I know you would have done it — you
would do anything for me."

108 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"But it wouldn't have done, Mose, not even if you had been
real good and juicy," laughed Steve. "Just think, if Jack's
reservoir had been replenished from your supply, he'd be steal-
ing watermelons and chickens most likely, soon as he could
travel. We've got to save Jack's reputation as well as his life."

"Das so, Marse Steve," laughed Mose, "tain't no use to run
no resks."

"But some one else did want to do the same for you, Jack,
and if that had happened, you'd be curling your hair, I expect,
and going in for laces and ribbons and corsets — "

"What do you mean, Steve?" and a smile wreathed Jack's
lips as he looked into the dark face of his friend.

"Ina offered herself — she begged to be allowed to take my
place," replied Steve softly. Jack's eyes opened wide in aston-
ishment, which gave way to tenderness and a feeling of ecstacy.

"Dear little girl," he whispered, and turned his face to the
wall. Presently he spoke again :

"How is Joe? Will he get well, Mose?" Mose was sitting
on the cot where Joe was now reposing and was putting cold
wet cloths to the dog's head.

"Corse he gwine ter git well, honey. He gwine ter be de
ring bearer when you and Miss Nellie git married."

Mose did not know of what had happened between Jack
and Steve, but remembered how on Tuesday night Jack had
stayed so late with Nellie in the parlor. Steve turned white
and looked out toward the setting sun. Jack colored in
embarrassment :

"Mose that will never happen," he said. "Don't think of
it again," and he pressed Steve's hand.

Now 'fore de Lawd, HI' Marse, doan you git no flirtin in
yo' head — dey ain't no gal kin hoi' a light to Miss Nellie. Did'n
I see her kissing yo' back to life out dar in de lot whar she
foun' you? Doan you treat Miss Nellie wrong — she's a good
gal," rattled Mose, not knowing how he was hurting Jack, and
disturbing Steve.

"Mose, for God's sake, hush," cried Jack in distress.
"Nellie is Steve's sweetheart." Mose looked from one to the
other in blank dismay, realizing that something was badly
wrong.

"Not if she loves you, Jack," choked Steve, trying to smile
bravely. "But hush, now, I fear you are talking too much.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 109

Don't worry about anything. Just get well. I'm your friend,
no difference what happens."

Just outside the door stood Nellie, as if rooted to the spot,
her hands filled with flowers, her face pale and crimson alter-
nately. She had evidently heard every word. Turning she
went swiftly out and in a few moments had reached home and
locked herself in her room. She placed the flowers in a vase
of water, bathed her face and hands, sat down by her window
and took herself to task:

"I won't be a fool,— I don't think I love Jack anyway— I'm
just in love with his energy, ambition and success. And what
if / did kiss him" — and her cheeks grew crimson — "it was just
through pity and — and just such a kiss as I'd give Ned,"
defiantly. "And can it really be that Steve cares for me? He
has proven himself a hero — he's grand. Well, I'll try to act
as if I hadn't heard — I'll forget it and be as natural and act as
sisterly toward Jack, as I can," determinedly.

It was now Friday evening and "Commencement." Jack
could see the graded school grounds from his window; and, as
he watched the crowds gather, he could hardly keep the tears
from his eyes. The band boys had all been to see him, bringing
breezy bits of news and gossip to cheer him up ; but all were
grieved over the fact that poor Jack could not occupy his place
among them, nor even be present at the exercises.

Nellie, Ina and other girls had brightened the sick room
with their presence and had brought beautiful flowers. Steve
had left Jack only to get his meals. Mose was constantly on
the alert, trying to do something for Jack or Joe, and the boy
had not been allowed to feel lonely. He tried hard to hide
his disappointment and to bear his confinement with patience,
but the wistful expression on his face made a lump rise in the
throat of the good superintendent, who had set his heart on
having Jack to graduate on this occasion. But "man proposes
and God disposes." Since Jack could have no part in the
exercises, we will pass them by and hurry on to more important
things.

Jack had been in bed a week nursed with tenders! solicitude
by Steve and Mose, and visited by numerous friends. He and
Joe were both improving rapidly, when one afternoon Mrs.
Nixon came to his room and said that a strange lady wanted
to see him.

110 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"Who is she?" asked Jack, very much surprised.

"I do not know. She would not say, but pleaded to see you.
She is tall, dark, and really handsome, but looks as if she had
seen some great trouble or sorrow.

"Let her come in," said Jack and Steve looked around and
got his hat.

"You stay right here, Steve. I've got no secrets from you
and — and I think I know who she is — I want you to stay here."

Presently Mis' Florence, in deep mourning, entered the
room and knelt by the bed.

"Jack, you dear, dear boy — at last I see you again," and
there were tears in her dark eyes. Then she looked up at Steve
and offered her hand.

"You are Steve Laney, aren't you? — the young man who
saved Jack's life." Steve bowed awkwardly.

"I am Steve Laney, — but — Joe saved Jack — not I."

"Oh, I read it all in the papers, and came as quickly as
I could." Mose now entered the room and almost fell as he
saw the visitor.

"Gawd-a-mighty!" he exclaimed, and Mrs. Florence reached
one hand to him and smiled through her tears.

"Have you no word of welcome for me, Mose?" she asked.

"I dunno. Mistis — deed I don't, Dat's des accordin," Mose
answered, looking from the window, and ignoring her hand,
his mind busy with the past.

From his cot by the window, Joe watched the visitor un-
easily. Jack had noted the heavy mourning and the lines of
suffering on the pale face. He noted, too, that her eyes always
shifted from his. She could not look him squarely in the face.
At last he spoke:

"Why did you come? Where is Arthur? Do take a chair,
please," and Steve placed a rocker near her.

"No, Jack, let me tell you what I must, here on my knees.
Arthur is dead," and her voice broke with sobs. Jack groaned
in sympathy and laid his hand on hers.

"Oh, when — how — " he began.

"Ah! but are you strong enough to bear it? Yes? Jack,
surely in death, Arthur atoned for all the sins of his life. He
threw a little child from in front of a fast moving train, but
was caught beneath the wheels and both legs cut off. He lived
two days, was never unconscious, and prayed earnestly to God

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 111

for pardon, and peace — and, oh, Jack, I believe he was saved."

"In corse he wuz, Mistes. De Lawd des had to kill him,
maybe, to save his soul. Doan yo' neber doubt it — if Marse
Arfur axe de Lawd to save him he shore done it. He doan
turn nobody off what axes help," declared Mose.

"He won't save me— I can't get peace— though 1 pray day
and night," sobbed Mrs. Florence.

"Maybe you's done somebody a wrong dat you ain't neber
righted. Maybe you got malice er envy er jealousy in yo' heart,"
said Mose. And Mrs. Florence turned pale as death. Steve
stood leaning against the window watching the suffering
woman with his heart full of pity.

"It happened last Thursday morning — the very day of your
tragedy, Jack, and he was buried Saturday. It was Monday
when I saw about your trouble, and I came as quickly as I could.
I had promised Arthur to come to you and bring a message
from him. We would have sent for you, but knew you wouldn't
get there in time."

"Oh, I am so sorry for you. Mrs. Florenc — I know how
you worshipped your boy. What was his message to me?"
asked Jack.

"He asked that you forgive him for all the mean things
he had said and done to you, and said he was glad you had
not made a wreck of your life like he had. He was very weak
from loss of blood and could not talk much, but he spoke your
name often."

"I forgave him long ago," whispered Jack.

"Forgive me, too, Jack."

"I forgave you when you sent me that," said Jack, pointing
to the picture of his mother, which had been brought to his
room the day after the tragedy, and when I forgave you, that
peace which passeth all understanding entered my heart. I'll
prove that I've forgiven you," and Jack put one arm around
her neck, leaned his head close to her and whispered :

"Mother ; let me as far as possible fill the place in your
heart and life made vacant by poor Arthur's untimely death."
But to his surprise Mrs. Florence drew away from him, and
cried out in bitterness of spirit

"No, No! Wait! You don't know — I have been far more
wicked and cruel than you think — you don't know what you
say — you will hate me — but I will confess everything. I plotted

112 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

against you for Arthur's sake. I tried to wean your father's
love away from you. I cheated you of your birthright — I've
been an imposter and a thief! Here!" — and she tore a paper
from her bosom — "Here is your father's last will. I stole it
from his pocket when he was brought home dead. His last
thought in life was for your welfare. Everything is yours — he
left $8,000 in cash for me. Most of that is gone. Poor Arthur
was wild and reckless, and always in trouble — but thank God,
he's safe now."

Jack was dazed at first and held the will in his hand, looking
from Steve to Mose and back at the kneeling figure by the bed,
unable to say a word. His lips began to quiver, as he began
to realize what had happened.

"Praise Gawd ! Yes Mis' Florence, I got a welcome fur ye
— an' glory to de Lawd, dar's more rejoicin ober one black
sheep dat turns white, den ober a paster full dat's been white all
de time. De Lawd gwine ter gib ye peace now, Mis' Florence —
hit's a comin!" and Mose slapped his hands and laughed happily,
as he capered around the room.

"Oh, God, I thank Thee," whispered Jack.

'You— see — now, Jack, how wicked I've been. When I look
back and see the deception I practiced, and how I plotted and plan-
ned for Arthur against you, I simply loathe and detest myself.
I can't forgive myself and God won't forgive me — neither can
you. Arthur lost all love and respect for me, but I regained him,
when I told him that I would come to you, and as far as lay in
my power, make restitution. Oh, Jack, how I have suffered!
Regret and remorse have eaten into my soul, and the nights have
been so full of misery and anguish that I dared not extinguish
the light. There's no need of a hell. To be alone with a guilty
conscience is hell enough for anyone!" cried the wretched
woman, rising from her knees. Steve sprang forward and
tenderly placed her in a chair, where she bowed her face in her
hands and wept bitterly.

"Lil Marse, say sumpen," pleaded Mose, looking with com-
passion on the weeping woman. "She done wrong an she done
'fessed it all — dat's all she kin do. Can't you forgive her?"

"Forgive her — why, I have nothing to forgive," cried Jack.
"Everything has turned out for the best— I would not have it dif-
ferent for the world." Then he called in a voice full of affection :

\

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 113

"Mother!" Slowly the bowed head was raised, and a look
of surprise and incredulity gave way to one of joy and peace, as
Mis' Florence saw Jack's outstretched hands and she again fell
on her knees by the bed, while Jack's arms were folded about
her shoulders and he pressed his first kiss on her brow:

'Mother! The Unseen Hand guides and directs all things,
making good come of evil, and sending us blessings in disguise."

"Jack, oh, Jack. I feel that your father sees and knows, —
and — why — Jack, the burden is gone — I'm happy — I'm free —
and can it be? Am I indeed saved? Yes, I feel the power of
pardoning blood."

"J knowed de blessin' wuz a comin," declared old Mose, and
Joe answered with a bark of approval and wagged his tail
joyously.

Steve could stand it no longer, and escaped through the open
window, joining Nellie and Ina on the lawn. He had had no
word with Nellie and Mrs. Nixon had been ever on the alert,
never allowing Ina to enter Jack's room unaccompanied.

"What do you think, girls," Steve exclaimed. "Why Jack
is almost a millionaire! His stepmother has just presented him
with his father's last will which made Jack rich. Now, by Heck !
I guess we'll lose him. You know he won't stay here, now, after
becoming heir to so much property. It must be something great.
She said everything was Jack's except eigth thousand, and she
spoke as if that was quite a small sum compared with Jack's
portion. Yes, Jacks' a goner now!"

CHAPTER XV.

"Gee! Has it really happened? I've always expected it,"
declared Nellie.

Steve looked at Nellie and she looked at Ina, who began to
study the toe of her slipper, the rich color coming and going in
her dark oval face. Presently she spoke :

"But daddy won't let him go. He can't do without Jack —
I've heard him say so. Why, he intends promoting Jack to over-
seer of spinning soon as he gets well. Mr. Jones is going to su-
perintend a mill somewhere in South Carolina. But there — I
ought not to have told that! I — I — " There was a break in
the girl's voice, tears came to her eyes and she fled ignminously,
leaving Steve and Nellie alone.

Steve had long pictured this hour in his mind and had
looked forward with eager anticipation to the time when he

114 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

could pour out his heart to the object of his adoration, but now
he felt weak, uncertain and afraid. What if Nellie repulsed
him and refused to even be friends?

"Let's — let's sit down a few moments," he stammered, lead-
ing Nellie to a rustic seat near them, and his heart thrilled with
hope as she gazed smilingly after Ina, turned her honest gray
eyes up to him and said softly :

"I believe they love each other, Steve."

"I think so, too, darling — ah, forgive me! I am so accus-
tomed to calling you that in my thoughts that I did so almost
unconsciously. But, Nellie, dearest, won't' you give me the
right to call you something even nearer and dearer?" and Steve's
hand closed over hers.

"Oh, they'll see us, Steve, warned Nellie, glancing appre-
hensively toward the house, the blushes mantling her fair face.
But Steve had felt the thrill of her clinging fingers, and his blood
leaped in his veins. He knew that the tall shrubbery hid them
from view, and ;

"Well, let them!" he cried triumphantly.

Then Nellie found herself crushed in his arms, and almost
suffocated by tender, lingering kisses. At last, when she could
speak she whispered :

'Oh, Steve, I didn't know love was like this!" Steve pressed
another rapturous kiss on the quivering lips and asked :

"Like what, darling? — Tell me," and his dark face glowed
with happiness.

"It's — it's like heaven, I think!" was the answer that
trembled up from the lapel of his coat.

"Yes, sweetheart. Heaven on earth. Oh, my precious one,
you have been enshrined in my heart for years and my inspira-
tion always. When you went away to school, I knuckled down
to hard work and study, hoping to become worthy of you. If I
could bear to release you a moment I'd show you something."

"Well, I command you to release me, sir!" came a half
smothered voice.

"I won't do it. There's a challenge and a dare in that com-
mand," laughed Steve happily. "But I'll let you have the use of
one little hand and you may feel in my inside breast pocket
right over my heart and get what you find there."

Nellie did as she was bidden and drew forth a little flat box.

"What is it?" she asked.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 115

"Open it and see, sweetheart." Nellie opened it and found
a pressed red rose carefully wrapped in tissue paper. She looked
at Steve enquiringly:

"It's the one you gave me years ago at Sunday School — and
see, it is still fragrant."

"Oh, Steve! And you have kept it all this time? I never
dreamed of such a thing," and Nellie put the rose carefully away
again.

"Little girl, that precious keepsake has been more to me
than you can ever know. It has caused me to be strong when
tempted, and has given me courage when all looked dark and
hopeless. My own, I know in my heart it's true — I'm not dream-
ing, but I am longing to hear you say it. Now, this way — in
perfect trust," and Steve lifted her arms and placed them around
his neck. "Now, darling!" And then he pressed her to his
heart, bent his dark head and waited. A low voice, scarcely
audible, but trembling with happiness thrilled him :

"I love you, Steve, oh, how I love you!"

"When did it happen, sweet? Tell me," eagerly.

"I — I don't know— but I think it was when you gave your
blood to save Jack," she said, and Steve kissed her again and
again.

" 'Scuse me, Marse Steve. I hates to pester ye on dis gloris
occasion," — Steve released Nellie, who was blushing furiously
and they stood up before the grinning Mose, who continued:
"But Marse Jack axe me to tell you to come dar if you ain't too
busy."

"Bless Jack's heart, and darn you for a meddling old ras-
cal!" said Steve with a grimace. "I never was more busy in my
life. Why, Mose, we've crammed more of life and love in the
past few minutes than some people experience in a hundred
years. I'm the happiest man in Georgia."

"You shore orter be," grinned Mose, looking after Nellie,
who was running toward home.

Steve was soon with Jack.

Mrs. Nixon had met and welcomed Mrs. LeGrande, and
had taken her to a nice cool room, which she was warmly urged
to consider hers' as long as she would remain with them.

"Steve, what's the matter with you? You look as if you'd
been communing with the angels," said Jack, smiling into his
friend's happy face.

116 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

"Just one," grinned Steve, "and Mose caught us red-handed.
Jack, I'm so happy I'm afraid. Nellie is mine."

"Oh, I'm so glad, Steve! Congratulations.' '

After they had talked it over, Jack said :

"Steve, I think that you and Mose were the only ones in
the room when — when — mother made her confession — and —
and— I—"

"It will never escape my lips, Jack," Steve assured him,
knowing at once that his friend wanted to shield the repentant
woman from blame or censure. "I have never been more touched
over anything. I think she has suffered enough, and that through
suffering she has been perfected. I'd do anything to shield her,
and save her from humiliation."

"God bless you, Steve. You are one of the finest characters,
I have ever met or ever expect to know. I'm proud of you and
your grand principles — your gentleness, tenderness and charity."

"Oh, hush, you make me ashamed. I do hope to be worthy
of the pure sweet girl who has given me her heart. But, oh,
Jack, how we shall all hate for you to leave us. Of course, you'll
go home, now?" Steve faltered.

"I don't know yet. I haven't had time to think what I
shall do," replied Jack.

The days passed on. Steve went back to his work, the next
Monday, leaving Mrs. Florence to nurse Jack. Joe could walk
about the room now, but limped painfully. Ina was allowed to
go in and out of Jack's room as she pleased, now that his mother
was always present, and the patient received such loving care
that he often declared he wasn't going to try to get well at all.

One day Jack and Mrs. Florence were alone and he spoke
softly and tenderly :

"Mother, how do you like Ina?"

"She's a dear sweet girl — I love her," was the answer.

"And so do I," whispered Jack, kissing her hand. "But we
are both so young, and Ina has three years in school yet. I sup-
pose it would not be right or honorable for me to address her,
or let her know my heart. I must wait until she has finished —
must I not ? But it is hard to wait so long without one little ray
of hope to live on. What must I do?"

The tears came into the woman's eyes. Jack opened his
heart to her just as if she had really been his mother and she
was deeply touched by the compliment.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 117

"My dear, let your own good judgment lead you. I know
you will do what is right. I can't advise you. But talk about
'hope' — why, I saw in less than a day after my arrival, that you
two loved each other. She feels for you all that you feel for her.
You have everything to hope for, Jack."

"If I were only sure of that I could wait, patiently," said
Jack.

"I know it's true, dear boy," the woman affirmed smilingly,
pushing back his damp golden hair, with a caressing touch. Then
after a moment, she continued :

"Jack, it seems awful to be so happy, when poor Arthur has
so lately been buried, but I can't help it. All the burden of guilt
and fear has gone from my soul — the barriers between you and
me have been burned away by fiery trials — all the dross has been
consumed and the gold refined in our natures. We stand re-
vealed to each other, and love each other. Oh, Jack, how could
you ever forgive me?"

"Mother, it's all over — let's bury the past in oblivion and
never speak of it again. I can see and realize it was all for the
best. I can look back and see that I must have tried your pati-
ence terribly. I was jealous and stubborn, and had a horrid tem-
per. When I came near killing Arthur," and he shuddered, "I
learned a bitter lesson. From that day on, I have been able to
control my temper. Had I not left home, and been thrown on
my own resources, I should never have made anything of myself.
I'm sorry for all the mistakes and heart aches of the past, but I
thank God for His goodness ; for the dear friends who took me in
and encouraged me to be something and do something; for the
success that has come to me ; for the joy of this hour, when I feel
your caressing touch and am confident of your genuine affection,
and for the future which seems rosy with hope. All things work
together for good to them that love God, and are called according
to His purpose. I don't know what the last clause of the quota-
tion means, mother, but I do know that I love God, and that all
things have worked together for my good."

"Even this thing that came near ending your life, Jack?
Surely, there can no good come of that dear. That nasty knife
came near putting you away for good."

"Mother, the tragedy revealed to me the value of Steve's
friendship, and it brought him and Nellie together. Later, I
may learn other good that has resulted from it," smiled Jack.

118 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

Mr. Nixon now came in from the mill accompanied by Bax-
tex and Mr. Jones.

"Why, I didn't know it was stopping time," said Jack
brightly. "Mother just makes time fly." All had previously met
the lady, and each had a pleasant greeting for her. It had some-
how gotten out that the lady had found the will in an old coat
pocket, and that she had brought it to Jack as fast as she could,
though it put her out of house and home. Mose had dropped
a word here and there with great cunning which had yielded
abundant harvest of kind thoughts for the sad-faced woman, who
nursed Jack so tenderly. They knew that because of a previous
will, which had given her everything, Jack had rebelled and run
away from home.

"Still improving, I see," came the cheery voice of Mr.
Nixon, placing chairs for Baxter and Mr. Jones.

"Yes, the doctor says I may get out and go where I please in
a day or so. The cuts have all healed nicely. I want to get back
to work next Monday."

"Now, Jack, not so fast. It ain't been but three weeks today,
since you was considered worm-food," warned Baxter, uneasily.

"You musn't rush. Jack, though every one is wild to see you
at your post. We were afraid that since you had come into such a
fortune, you would turn your back on us," added Mr. Jones.

"I'll never forget the friends who have been all the world to
me since I came here a little more than six years ago," replied
Jack, warmly, looking from one to another.

Ina came to the door, smiled into the room, flashed a look
at Jack that set his heart to beating like a trip hammer, and
asked Mrs. LeGrande to go with her for a little walk. The woman
excused herself from the gentlemen and went with Ina. She had
been out but very little, though Jack had urged her to take more
exercise and fresh air.

When she had gone, the gentlemen looked at Jack and each
other, as if expecting something. Jack was puzzled.

"So you won't leave us, dear boy? The thought that you
could not be induced to stay has caused me to lose lots of sleep,"
said Mr. Nixon, moving his chair closer to Jack's.

"I like the mill better than the farm," said Jack, slowly. "I
don't know a thing about farming. Still I guess it's my duty to
go back and take my place in the world of farmers. I almost
wish that father's last will had never been found. I had gotten

ONLY A FACTORY BOY 119

accustomed to depending on myself for everything. To know
that his last thoughts were for me, gives me more pleasure than
to possess the property, though it consists of six hundred acres
of the best land in Montgomery county," said Jack.

"I'll swigger ! Well, I guess you won't stay in the barn atter
inheritin' all that," exclaimed Baxter triumphantly.

"I'll never have a room I like better," declared Jack.

"We are desperately afraid we can't keep you at all," said
Mr. Nixon, sadly. "Jack, don't leave use. Jones is leaving to
accept a better position — going to superintend a mill in South
Carolina, soon as we can fill his place here." Jack smiled at his
overseer.

"Mr. Jones, I'm as glad for you as if the good fortune were
my own. But I know you will be badly missed here. You have
made one of the best overseers, and I can look forward and see
our mill boys and girls rising up and calling you blessed, just as
they are doing for Mr. Nixon."

"A superintendent certainly has every opportunity for
helping the boys and girls and I hope to do some good. I've had
a good example set before me," nodding at Nixon, "and if I fail
to follow it, I hope somebody will kick me out."

Here, Steve entered, and received a cheery greeting from all.
Baxter continued the conversation.

"I don't believe there's another superintendent livin' that
takes sich a interest in his people as Mr. Nixon does."

"Oh, hush, Baxter," protested the superintendent, "that's
just because you don't know."

"I don't believe there are many who would take i na boy
tramp and his dog, and give them both a chance," smiled Jack.
"You, Mr. Jones, and Mr. Baxter, have been the best friends to
me a boy ever had."

Mr. Nixon looked out across the hills for a moment, with a
happy expression on his face, then he said softly: "I'd rather
have a few boys point to me with love and gratitude, and say,
'he gave me a chance ; he encouraged and helped me to be a man ;
he is responsible for my success,' — Yes, I'd rather have that than
the riches of Rockefeller, or to be president of the nation."

Then he turned to Steve : "Steve, help us to keep Jack."
The superintendent had decided that his wife's suspicions were
absurd, and that Jack had no thought for Ina, except as a friend.
He had learned to love the boy almost as a son, and to think that

120 ONLY A FACTORY BOY

now Jack would go back to his country home, and be lost to him,
perhaps forever, was a terrible blow to the good man, who had
been denied the blessing of having a son of his own. Mr. Nixon
continued :

"We had set our hearts on having Jack take Mr. Jones' place,
and we know he would want you for his second hand. So, now,
Steve, you see it's to your interest to help us keep him." Steve
looked dazed for a moment. Then he sprang up in eager excite-
ment:

"Do you think we could do it?" he exclaimed.

"Jones says he's made Jack do all the work just because he
was expecting this, and says he can't be beat. We are willing to
trust Jack," answered Mr. Nixon, smiling over Steve's animation.

Jack's lips quivered when he tried to speak and for a moment
he covered his eyes with his hand.

"Don't say you can't stay, Jack!" pleaded Baxter. "Steve's
atter my Nellie, an' she's crazy about him, an' I recon if he gets
to be second hand I'll have to consent. I told 'em I weren't goin'
to consent till Steve worked up to that, but darned if I thought
it would come so soon!" Steve's dark face turned a dark red.
Mr. Nixon looked greatly interested, and congratulated Steve.
Baxter continued :

"Now, if Jack was in love with one of our pretty girls, we
could keep him without any trouble at all."

Jack turned pale, at this, and turned to Mr. Nixon with such
longing in his blue eyes that the man rose from his chair and went
to him; placing both hands on his shoulders, he bent and asked
softly :

"What is it, my boy? Must you refuse us?" Jack turned to
the others appealingly:

"Will you all take a few moments out on the porch, and let
me speak to Mr. Nixon?"

"Sure, we will, my boy," said Jones, smiling and leading the
way out, followed by Baxter. As Steve passed out his eyes shin-
ing with hope and anticipation, he bent and whispered in Jack's
ear:

"That's right, old boy ! Good luck to you — you are going to
win."

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 121

CHAPTER XVI.

When the audience retired, a feeling of utter desolation
swept over poor Jack. What was he about to do? Who was he,
to dare aspire to the heart of this great and good man's only
child, the sweetest and most lovable, the most bewitching and
tantalizingly beautiful girl in Georgia? He felt that in loving
Ina, he had betrayed the trust and friendship of the noble su-
perintendent who had opened his heart and home to him. Mr.
Nixon had done so much for him, could he ask for the man's
dearest and most treasured possession? No, he would go away
and leave this sweet girl for some one more worthy.

But here Jack's reasoning took another turn. His heart
rebelled. W7ho would ever be worthy of Ina? Who could be
more worthy than he? His character, he knew, was spotless.
He had lived a clean life. How glad he was of that. Jack rose
to his feet. There was a lump in his throat, his lips quivering and
the color surged over his fair cheeks as he faced the man who
had been his best friend, holding the chair for support.

"Mr. Nixon, I— I — " Jack choked down.

"Sit down, my boy, you are too weak to stand. Why, what is
the matter? Does the wound pain you?" And Mr. Nixon gently
forced Jack back into the reclining chair and bent over him
anxiously.

"No, oh, no! The wound has healed nicely — I'm almost
entirely well. But — " Jack again faltered.

"Jack, you alarm me. You are flushed and nervous — you
are — "

"I'm in love — that's all!" Jack blurted out, "and it makes
me miserable and lonely to see how happy Steve and Nellie are
when I don't dare hope for such happiness myself."

"Well, well," said Mr. Nixon, "and why can't you hope?
Surely, no girl in her right mind would turn you down, Jack.
I'm glad you are in love, if as Baxter says, that will keep you
here. But who is the lucky girl?" and Mr. Nixon smiled encour-
agingly upon Jack.

"Mr. Nixon, you have always been so good and kind to me
that I—"

"Yes, yes. Tell me all about it, my boy. I'll see you through,"
said Mr. Nixon, wondering who the girl could be.

122 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Don't condemn me," pleaded Jack, grasping the man's hand.
"I could not help it — I never can help it — I'd die for her any
minute if — "

"Yes, I see you've got a serious case of it, Jack — I've gone
through the same experience and know how to sympathize with
you. But to live for her is better, and she'll appreciate it more.
But 'condemn' you? I don't understand. You haven't fallen in
love with some one unworthy, I hope?"

"No, no. I'm so unworthy of her. I'll never be worthy — but,
oh, I'd gladly serve as did Jacob for Rachel, if I might win her —
your sweet girl — beautiful Ina!"

Mr. Nixon turned pale, but smiled into Jack's eyes and held
his hand firmly. It was a serious thing to think about.

"My boy, you surprise me. I haven't seen a thing that
pointed to this, and — what does Ina say? She is so young — my
only baby," stammered Mr. Nixon.

"Oh, sir! surely you don't think I'd take advantage of her
youth and innocence — or your goodness to me, and address her
without your permission? I have never by word or look let her
know the secret of my heart. I never shall without your con-
sent."

•

"God bless you, Jack, there are precious few such young
men who have such a high sense of honor. You have never at
anytime failed to come up to the highest standard. I'd rather
give my darling up to you than to any one else' on earth, if you
can win her. But you are both young. There is plenty of time.
Let her finish school."

"I can wait and work patiently, if I have your approval,"
smiled Jack, happily, drawing his shoulders up and holding his
head erect, feeling that now he could conquer the world.

"You may not win her mother's consent quite so easily,"
warned Mr. Nixon. "She has always said that no one should
take our baby from us. But we can accomplish a lot while Ina
is in school. Now, will vou accept the spinning room, Jack?"
help."

"If vou are willing to risk me, I'll do my best with Steve's
help."

Mr. Nixon's face expressed the relief and pleasure he felt,
as he stepped to the open window and called to Jones, Baxter
and Steve, who were standing at the other end of the long porch.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 123

They all returned and every eye was focused on Jack's happy
face.

"I don't know what's happened," laughed Baxter, "but I'll
swigger if there ain't a smashin' change in the atmosphere!"

Jones knew at once that Mr. Nixon had gained his point,
and that Jack would take on the responsibilities of the spinning
room, and he was greatly relieved. He felt that no one could
come in and fill the place so well as Jack, whom every one loved
and respected, and he was confident that Jack would fill the place
with complete satisfaction to the company.

Steve's face grew radiant, and his eyes sparkled when he
saw the joy and light pictured on the face of his beloved friend,
and he walked to his side and laid his hand lovingly on Jack's
shoulder, expressing in the warmth of his touch, the congratu-
lations of his heart. Jack understood, reached up and clasped his
hand.

Mr. Nixon pointed to them with a gesture of love and pride,
turned to Jones, and Baxter, made a bow and said :

"I want you to meet my new spinning room man, Mr. Le-
Grande and his second hand, Mr. Laney." Just as the words
left his lips, Mrs. LeGrande, Mrs. Nixon, Ina and Nellie paused
at the door.

"Oh!" exclaimed Nellie, joyfully; then blushed as she
remembered that her father had told Steve he must wait for
her until he had reached just such a position. Steve looked at
her triumphantly, while Baxter taking it all in, exclaimed :

"Darned, if I don't believe somebody's been workin' a rabbit
foot on me! I've been tricked an' trapped slick as a button.
Nixon, I wouldn't a thought it of you!" and Baxter was a comical
looking sight trying to hide the pleasure that he felt over
Steve's promotion.

"Congratulations are in order," laughed Mr. Jones.

"They certainly are," agreed Nixon. Mrs. Nixon hurried
forward, followed by Mrs. LeGrande, both congratulating the
"boys" on their success.

"But," said Mrs. LeGrande, and her voice choked with tears :
"Oh, how can I go back home and leave my boy here?" Jack
pulled her head down on his shoulder, stroked her hair lovingly,
and whispered something in her ear that made her smile through
her tears as he released her.

UNCLE MOSE"

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 125

Steve had gone to the door where Nellie stood blushing
happily, and Ina heard him say softly :

"Sweetheart, you are mine now," and as Nellie looked into
his dark eyes with such a world of love and trust, she took a red
rose from her breast and' pinned it on Steve's coat.

Ina was wearing roses, too, and her hand involuntarily rose
to them as she glanced toward Jack, who regarded her wistfully.
Mrs. Nixon divined Ina's thought, gave her a smile and nodded
her head encouragingly. Ina blushed furiously, but stepped for-
ward bravely and exclaimed :

"Steve shall not have all the roses, Jack!" and while her
trembling fingers fastened the rose to the bosom of his cool,
blouse shirt, she felt the tumultuous throbbings of his heart, blue
eyes looked into brown, soul spoke to soul in a silence more elo-
quent and thrilling than words, and with mutual understanding.

"God," whispered Jack reverently, while the passionate
blood of his ancestors rushed riotiously through his veins almost
compelling him to clasp her to his heart and defy the world to
separate them. But much as he loved Ina, he loved honor more,
and his lips were sealed, though now there was an abiding joy
in his heart that would brighten the coming days of separation
with the rainbow of hope.

"Steve shan't have all the roses," she had said, and there
was a sweet, shy, hidden meaning to the innocent assertion, that
only Jack comprehended:

"Now, fo' de Lawd, what am de mattah in here?" exclaimed
Mose, entering the room with Joe at his heels, and looking around
anxiously. "Marse Jack, you ain't gone an had a spell, now, is
yo?" Everybody laughed.

"Yes, we've all had spells, an' tricks has been played on the
rest of us," explained Baxter.

"Now, doan dat beat de diner!" and Mose grinned expect-
antly, as he fumbled with his hat, looking from one happy face
to another, and waiting to be enlightened.

"Jack will be spinning room overseer soon as he's able,"
smiled Mr, Nixon, "and Steve will be his assistant. They are
both good boys, and to see them climb the ladder of success has
been one of the greatest pleasures of my life."

"De land sakes ! Marse Jack, you ain't gwine home to de
plantation?' 'and there was a ring of disappointment in the old
man's tone.

126 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Not yet, Mose; I love mill work and shall stick to it." And
/ack stooped to pet old Joe, who stopped and looked lovingly
in his face, wagging his tail and saying plain as words, that he
rejoiced to see his young master so much improved.

Presently, Mr. Jones, Baxter, Nellie and Steve took their
departure, followed to the porch by Mr. and Mrs. Nixon and Ina,
leaving Jack, Mrs. LeGrande and Mose alone. Mose began to
fumble in his pockets, and presently he pulled out a little package
carefully wrapped in a red handkerchief while he grinned
sheepishly :

"LiF Marse, I got sumpin fo' yo." And when the handker-
chief was removed, Jack saw a splendid likeness of old Mose.
"I'se eighty fo' year ole, HI' Marse, an da's de onliest pickter I
ever had tuck. Tuther day de pickter man cum along, he did, an
Mis' Baxter she say: 'Now, Mose, you des gotter set fur one.
You ain't gwine ter live allers an yo' fren's will be mighty proud
to have a pickter of you.' I 'lowed maybe dat's so, an I des put on
my Sunday duds an had me bewty struck — ha ! ha !"

"I'm so glad you did, Uncle Mose, but I'm so greedy and
jealous, I've a good mind to keep them all for myself," declared
Jack. "Doesn't he make a fine looking picture, mother?" and
Mrs. LeGrande examined the photographs with interest.

"Indeed, he does," she heartily agreed. "I hope there's one
for me, Mose?' 'and the old darkey proudly told her she could
have her choice.

"I hope, though, that I'll get another one when you are
a hundred years old, Mose, if I'm living then," said Jack, as he
too, selected a picture for himself.

"I'm the happiest boy in Georgia, Mose," declared Jack.

"Is yo' now, Marse Jack? Dat's des prezactly what Marse
Steve said tuther day when I kotch him a kissin — sumbody. Is
you bin kissin' sumbody, too, honey?"

"No," smiled Jack, "not exactly, but I will some sweet day."

A few days later — on Saturday evening before Jack was to
assume his duties the following Monday morning, Mr. Nixon
gave a banquet to the officers and overseers of the mill and
their wives in honor to Jack and to Mrs. LeGrande who was
to return home on the following Tuesday. There were speeches.,
toasts and music interspersed between couress and the fragrance
of the floral decorations, the flash of bright silverware and happy
faces, gave old Mose a delightful thrill as he, in spotless white,

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 127

helped to serve the guests. Of course, Steve, Nellie and Mr.
Baxter were present and the occasion was one of unadulterated
pleasure.

When Jack approached the mill on Monday morning, he
was met at the gate by nearly every inmiate of the spinning
room. The boys gathered him and in spite of his protests, lifted
him on their shoulders, cheered on by Mr. Nixon. The crowd
parted, making an opening through which the boys could pass
and as they bore Jack on toward the mill, the girls pelted him
with flowers, while rousing cheers rent the air.

A delegation had been ordered to "initiate" Steve, but he
had "caught on," and instead of coming to the mill the usual
route, he had gone around and entered through the engine room,
giving them the slip. There were stairways in front and back of
the mill and the boys entered the weave room the front way,
marched with Jack down the big "spare alley," up the back
steps to the card room, crossed it to the front, then up to the big
spinning room, where they deposited him in the overseer's chair
in front of the desk. Here joy and excitement gave place to deep-
est respect, and smiling and bowing, the boys quietly dispersed,
going each to his own place of duty, leaving Jack flushed and
happy.

Steve entered and closed the door. "By gum, Jack, let's
pinch each other, and see if we are asleep and dreaming. Who
would have thought that this would ever happen to me. You
deserve it — but I don't. I'll do my best for you though, and I
want to tell you right now, don't fail to call me down if I make
a mistake. I've got too much at stake to fail. Mr. Baxter says,
now, that I shan't have Nellie till I prove that I can make good.
He said at first that when I reached the place of second hand I
could have her. If I thought I'd fail, I'd kidnap her before an-
other twenty-four hours."

"And I've got to make good, too, Steve. I've got something
greater than ambition to spur me on to victory. Look here; I
know you will keep my secret," and Jack took from his inside coat
pocket, a fragrant, pressed rose, carefully wrapped, and pressed
it to his lips.

"All the roses are not yours, Steve."

"I hope not — I'd be miserable if some did not bloom for you,
Jack."

128 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

Then with an effort, sentiment was laid aside for stern duty,
as the whistles blew and work began.

Jack did not return to his room in the barn, though he gave
it up reluctantly. Mr. and Mrs. Nixon wanted to keep him with
them, but this brought such vigorous protest from the Baxters
who looked on Jack as a part of their own family, that they did
not press the matter, and our young hero, soon found himself
in the best room at Baxter Heights, while Mose was given the
pretty room in the barn, and kept Joe for protection and company.

September had come and the college students were saying
"good-bye" to home again, and returning to their studies. Jack
had been working hard, patiently and successfully, and had
reduced waste and tangled yarn to an amazing extent. Mr. Jones
had been considered one of the best spinners in the . State, but
Jack was exceeding him both in production and in the quality of
his yarn. The company made a study of the weekly reports, did
some calculating and marveled.

Steve had made an able assistant, and had at last won Bax-
ter's consent to have a Christmas wedding. Mr. Baxter said

they'd have to consent in self-defense for Steve just about stayed
there.

Jack stood at the mill window the day Ina left, and waved
her a good-bye as she went to the depot. She looked up and
smiled bravely through her tears. Jack had longed for a word
with her till his heart ached uncontrolably, but he did not dare
trust himself in her presence alone, and he had carefully guard-
ed against it. Mrs. Nixon had not gone with Ina to the depot.
She had never been brave enough to watch the train bear her
darling away, and pleaded a slight headache.

Mr. Nixon was with Ina, and saw the look of longing on the
face of Jack, and the disappointment of Ina. His heart ached
for Jack, but he had never dreamed that Ina's heart was aching
too.

"Pet," he said, slipping his arm around her, "the time will
soon pass, and then — "

"Daddy, oh, Daddy, why didn't Jack come and say good-bye
to me?" she exclaimed.

"Darling, perhaps he couldn't bear it. Be good, now, sweet-
est. Study hard and try to be worthy of some noble man's love.
Do you — do you want to send Jack a message? Daddy will de-
liver it if you do," stroking her hand.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 129

"You are the best old daddy in the whole wide world," she
whispered, kissing him. "Would — would it be improper for me
to send Jack a picture of mine?"

"Ha! ha! I just promised the young rascal to give him one
myself. Here is something he sent you." And Mr. Nixon gave
Ina large envelope and led her to a quiet corner of the waiting
room. "Don't you ever let your mother know about this," he cau-
tioned her.

Ina opened the envelope and found a fine photograph of
Jack, and on the back was written : "Keep my memory green."
With many blushes Ina took from her bosom an envelope of simi-
lar size containing a photo of herself and gave it to her father.
All her tears were gone now and her dark eyes sparkled like
jewels.

"Daddy, if you'll give him this, from me — "

"I will, pet," smiling as he read on the back of the picture,
"Forget me not."

Here, Nellie and several other girls rushed in to bid Ina
good-bye, and father and daughter could exchange no more sweet
confidences. The train soon rolled in and out again, and as far
as he could see her, Ina threw kisses to her father, who stood and
waved his hat in return, trying to swallow the lump in his throat,
while he wondered how he could ever endure his big, lovely home,
without his "Sunbeam."

Then he turned his steps toward the mill and straight to
Jack's desk, where he found the young overseer gazing absent-
mindedly out through the open window, looking very miserable.

"Cheer up, my boy!" he cried, slapping him on the shoulder,
and extending the envelope. "I don't have to steal for you — the
lady sends you your heart's desire."

Then he hurried out, leaving Jack alone with his happiness
and for fear that some one would intrude on him, Jack locked
his office door.

A few days later Mr. Nixon had a talk with Jack. The com-
pany had decided to build another mill, and Jack was advised to
study carding, during every spare moment.

"I've been doing that for a year," was his astonishing
answer. "I've tried to not neglect my duties, and I'm sure I
haven't ; but I'm very interested in carding. Mr. Brown has
been exceedingly kind to me, and takes great pains to explain
anything I ask him."

130 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Say; Jack, go your gait. There's something in the future
for you. The company is watching you. You have made aston-
ishing changes for the better here. Saw wood and say nothing."

CHAPTER XVII.

Mrs. Florence wanted Mose to return home with her, but he
refused, saying:

"Than'ee mam, I des can't leave Marse Jack. I done promist
de good Lawd I ain't nebber gwinter let man chile git outten mah
sight no mo. Den clars a nudder 'sideration what musn' be for-
got— sumbody gotta look atter Joe. Dat dawg's gittin ole, an
Marse Jack he 'low if Joe do git on de lif I gotta nuss him same
as he wuz Marse Jack heself. Den' I lak mah whitefolks at de
hotel. You des gin Sallie one o' mah pickters, an' tell her if Marse
Jack eber come home den I be right dar if I'se a libin. If I die,
Marse Jack will take me back an' bury me side o' Dilsie." And
Mis' Florence had to leave without him.

She and Jack had talked long and earnestly over business
matters, and Jack had said :

"Mother, you must think of me now as your, own son. I
know you have business ability and I want you to run the farm
just as you have been doing. Get a good man and woman whom
you can trust to live in the house with you for company and pro-
tection and let the man act as your foreman. Pay him what you
think is right — get a good man and pay him liberally. Do just
as you please with everything and be happy as you can. I'll
come to see you next summer if I can possibly get off. The home
is ours — don't think of it as mine, Mother, and I want you to feel
perfectly free to run things as you choose," and Jack kissed her
tears of shame and regret away, and smiled happily as she
agreed to do as he had advised.

Steve and Nellie were married Christmas eve, in front of
the beautiful well loaded Christmas tree in the church where both
were faithful Sunday school workers. The popular couple re-
ceived so many valuable and useful presents that housekeeping
was made easy. Both were passionately fond of music and Jack's
present was a lovely piano. He was not altogether unselfish in
his choice of a present, for he anticipated great pleasure in bring-
ing his violin and joining them during long winter evenings.

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 131

Ina was home for the wedding and Christmas and Jack had
lost not a little sleep in trying to decide on a Christmas present
for her. He would have liked giving her something expensive
but under the circumstances he knew it was not good form. They
were not engaged — were not even "keeping company" and he
must be very tactful.

He at last decided on a box of pink and white carnations, and
when they came from the florist arranged with maiden-hair fern
in heart design, and tied with an exquisite bow of white silk
chiffon, Jack knew he had selected the right present.

Ina was only home for a few days. Jack only saw her in
company with others. But just to see her and to breathe the
same atmosphere — to turn music made sacred by her touch, to
stand by and sing with her, and catch the faint perfume of her
hair was heaven for Jack. Not for worlds would he have seen
her for one moment, alone. None but himself could guess the
fight that raged in his soul. His honor was at stake. He would
not disappoint her father. He would wait patiently, let the price
be what it might ; she was worth it, if he could win her.

Before the three years were out, Jack felt that there were
grave doubts about his winning her. He had so studiously avoid-
ed being in her presence, except in company with others that
Ina noticed it, and was piqued. She had looked forward to her
vacations with a heart thrilling with tenderest love and fond
anticipation, and was disappointed because of Jack's reticence.
She did not know of his compact with her father and began to
think that she must have been mistaken — he did not care after
all.

Well, she would show him that she didn't care either, and
when she was home for Christmas, before she graduated in June,
she flirted with young men of the city until Jack's heart bled with
agony. Her beauty and vivacity made her irresistibly charming,
and, maddened over Jack's indifference, she hid an aching heart
beneath a smiling face, sang, rode and danced, until her father
looked grave and her mother troubled. Both felt relieved, yet
neither acknowledged it, when Ina was safe in college again.

In the meantime, things had happened. The new mill had
been built and was to start up the following September. Jack's
time had been so filled up, that he had had little time for melan-
choly. There was a bouncing baby at Steve's house that was call-
ed "Jack," and he was beginning to "take notice" of the tall

]32 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

handsome man with the troubled blue eyes, who came so often to
see him. The Y. M. C. A. hall had been enlarged. Debating soci-
ties had been organized and in these Jack took great delight. He
welcomed anything that would make him forget the ache in his
heart, and nothing comforted him more than his Bible and church
work.

Jack and Mrs. Florence exchanged letters once a week, each
finding great pleasure and happiness in the .correspondence. He
and Mose had visited her twice.

On the first of June the stockholders and officers of the mill
met in .conference in the big office. There was much business to
attend to. Officers were to be elected for the new mill, which
would start up three months later. Jack was elected superintend-
ent without a dissenting voice, and a message was sent to him
in the mill to come to the office.

Wondering what they could want with him Jack straightened
ed the summons. He was greeted warmly by the great men
assembled, and then the president said:

"Mr. LeGrande, you are unanimously elected superintend-
ent of the new mill, and we sincerely trust you will accept the
position.

Mr. Nixon looked at Jack anxiously. He had seen and under-
stood all that Jack had endured and suffered at the hands of Ina.
He had wanted to offer his sympathy, but each had avoided the
subect, as one too delicate for discussion. Mr. Nixon wondered
if Jack was brave enough to accept a position that would keep
him near Ina, when there was no hope that he could win her, and
waited in suspense for the answer. Jack had turned pale — then
flushed to the roots of his hair as he realized what had happened.
His blue eyes were wide with surprise and his voice trembled as
he replied :

"I can't express how I appreciate the honor you have done
me. I had hoped to be spinner in the big mill, but I never dream-
ed of being superintendent. I — I — thought Mr. Nix-on would — "
The president smiled:

"Mr. Nixon will be general manager. As far as possible,
we are advancing our own faithful ones, and will get new men
to fill vacancies, where we have no available material to 'work
up.' Your friend Steve will take your place as spinner — or if you
think him capable, we'll give him the place of spinner in the new
mill."

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 133

"Steve is certainly capable, and I'd like very mucn to have
him with me. We understand each other so thoroughly and — "

"So you accept, then Jack?" exclaimed Mr. Nixon, very much
relieved.

"I am very young — only twenty-three," said Jack, "but I
am willing to try." Then all in a flash he thought of the lovely
white superintendent's house that crested a lovely knoll, near
the new mill. Ah, if Ina would only occupy it with him! He
could see the pretty house from the office window, and as his
eyes were turned involuntarily toward it he heaved a sigh.

"You may send Mr. Laney down to us now," said the presi-
dent, shaking Jack's hand warmly. '"We are proud of you, my
boy. It was a happy day for the company when your run-away
feet led you to this office. You have no idea what you and your
Christian influence have meant for this community."

"If I am anything, or ever accomplish any good in this
world the honor is Mr. Nixon's," replied Jack warmly. Jack
withdrew and sought his friend.

It was only a few minutes later that he saw Steve returning
from the office, holding his shoulders proudly erect and his great
dark eyes dancing with joy. Steve rushed into Jack's office :

"Jack, oh. Jack! Do you remember our compact in the
the barn the night of your party? I said then I'd follow where
you would lead, but now you've just taken me by the hand and
yanked me on a high shelf all at once, and I'm dizzy over it ! Oh,
Jack, Jack! and I might never have waked up or been anything,
but for you !" and Steve turned aside to hide his emotion.

"Say, Steve, don't you want to run out and carry this mail
to Nellie?" and Jack held out a couple of letters that had just
been brought over from the postoffice.

"God bless you, Jack — you know I'm crazy to tell her!" and
Steve bolted. Presently the office door was jerked open and one
of the Baxter children rushed in crying:

Oh, Mr. Jack, Joe's sick and Uncle Mose said get a doctor
and come quick!"

Jack jerked up his 'phone and got busy. He called the doc-
tor and then asked Steve to hurry back. With an ache in his
heart that nothing could heal, Jack then went out to be with his
dog, and found Mose with Joe in his arms and talking to him as
if he had been a child :

134 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Dar now, Joe, doa'n yo' mind de valley an' de shadder —
tain't nuffin to be skeered of — dey's light on de udder side ! Dey
ain't nobody got mo right to heben den you is, Joe — you'se fit a
good fight an' dar's boun to be a. place fo' you ober dar. Yes,
honey, an' Dilsie an' Marse Henry an' Mis' Evelyn an' Arfur
gwine to be glad to see yo'. Mose'll come des es soon es de Lawd
invites him."

"Jack's eyes filled with tears. He sat down on Mose's bed and
held out his arms, and Mose, laid Joe tenderly in them.

"Can nothing be done?" asked Jack of the doctor, who had
come in and was looking grave.

"No, poor Joe has come to the end of the row. We can only
ease his suffering and let him go peacefully to sleep."

"Do it then " begged Jack as Joe began to whine piteously,
and plead for relief. The doctor gave a hypodermic, and with
one last loving look into Jack's agonized face, as he bent over him,
one feeble effort to caress his tear-wet cheek, Joe's soft brown
eyes were closed forever and he passed into the great unknown,
without a struggle.

The next day was Saturday and after the mill stopped a
large crowd attended the burial of Joe, which was in the garden
at Baxter Heights. Joe was wrapped in a white satin shroud and
laid in a white casket. This was enclosed in an air-tight metal
case, for Jack had a faint idea that perhaps he'd want to take
Joe home some day and lay his ashes in the old family burying
ground.

There were many eyes wet with tears as the crowd turned
away from the flower covered mound, where Jack lingered with
bare, bowed head, attended by the faithful Mose.

"June has always been my lucky and unlucky month," sigh-
ed Jack, thinking of the many things that had happened to him
during the past.

A few days later Mr. and Mrs. Nixon left to attend Ina's
graduation, and poor Jack looked forward to their return with
mingled dread and longing. It was heaven to be near Ina, even
if she would not care for him — provided she would not care for
some other.

They returned the 10th and a reception was given in honor
to the beautiful graduate, a few days later. Jack had called with
flowers and congratulations on the first evening of her arrival
and so had others. Ina, bewitchingly beautiful in soft clinging

ONLY A FACTORY BOY. 135

white, with crimson roses in. her hair and at her waist, her dark
eyes sparkling- with the joy of being home again, entertained
charmingly. She sang and played, holding her listeners spell-
bound with her wonderful expression.

Her father and mother looked on with pardonable pride, but

both were disturbed over the hopeless look on Jack's face as he

, leaned against the mantle and watched another turn Ina's music.

bending over her with such a manner of devotion, and flushing

with happiess as she occasionally gave him an upward glance and
smile.

Mrs. Nixon had known Jack's secret for some time, and in
her heart she had -acknowledged that she would not object to
Jack as a son-in-law. But she saw no hope of that., Ina had
greeted Jack as a dear friend, and complimented him on his pro-
motion, just as any one would have done, and without a tremor.

On the night of the reception Jack managed to be the last
guest to take his leave. With his hat in his hand, he was passing
out, when suddenly he looked at Ina, caught her eyes, held them
to his own for a second and saw the rich blood surge over her face
in a tell-tale flood. He resolved then and there to put his fate to
the test — he would know once for all if there was hope for him.

"Will you come out on the porch, please? If you are not too
tired, I'd like just a few moments with you," said Jack, and he
felt her hand tremble as he drew it through his arm and led her
out in the cool night air in the fragrance of June roses.

"Little girl, I've just got to know if there is any hope for me
to ever win you for my own. Don't answer yet — wait!" as Ina
caught her breath. Jack was afraid to hear his fate.

"Ina, I've suffered — God only knows how much — in keeping
silent through these years, but I didn't want to interfere with
your school duties — and — and — I waited. Oh, darling, how I
love you ! Look over yonder," and Jack pointed to the new super-
intendent's house that shone clearly in the moonlight. "If you'd
only make that home for me ! But there — I am selfish — you are
just home — you will want to travel and meet people — you may
find some one who is more worthy — but never any one who loves
you more. Can you ever learn to care for me?"

"I — I am afraid not, Jack," Ina whispered. Jack said not a
word. He was too stunned to speak. All the light had gone out
of his world. He raised his hand to his brow.

136 ONLY A FACTORY BOY.

"Oh, God help me," he murmured, and reeled toward the
steps. Ina sprang after him and caught his arm.

"Jack, oh Jack! How can I learn to do a thing that I've
been doing — oh — don't you know? — and I thought you didn't
care !"

"Ina, darling, look up ! Let me see your dear eyes," pleaded
Jack, clasping her to his breast half in doubt, as the dark head
bent lower and lower.

. "Look up, sweet," and Jack raised her face, gazed long and
searchingly into the misty, starry eyes, then as he pressed his
lips to hers, his heart throbbing with joy and thankfulness, there
came a trembling, "God bless you, my children," and Mr. and
Mrs. Nixon stood before them just a moment, then vanished.

They were married the 1st of September. Had a grand
church wedding, big reception, and then a trip to Washington
and New York, accompanied by Mrs. Florence, who had visited
these cities often, and knew everything worth seeing. During
the trip she met with an old admirer, a resident of Washing-
ton, and they were happily married the following Christmas.

Later, Jack sold the plantation except the family burying
ground and made arrangements to have it well cared for. Mose
moved over to the new house with Jack and Ina and when a year
later he was called into Ina's room and Jack proudly laid into his
arms a wee bundle of love and trouble that had the blue eyes
and golden curls of its father, Mose said :

"Praise Gawd! Hit's des lak Mis' Evelyn."

"Her name is Florence Evelyn and we shall call her Evelyn,"
smiled Ina, her dark eyes luminous with mother love. And Jack
bent and kissed her lovingly, thankfully and reverently.

(THE END.)

From Ball Room to Weave Room

CHAPTER I.

"We have careful thoughts for the stranger,
And smiles for the sometimes guest,

But oft for 'our own'

The bitter tone,
Though we love 'our own' the best.

"Ah! lips with the curve impatient,
Ah ! brow with the look of scorn,
'Twere a cruel fate
Were the night too late
To undo the work of the morn."

It was in New York, the 20th of May and two o'clock in the
morning. The guests were gone, and the assumed masks of
gayety had dropped as if by magic from the faces of husband
and wife.

It was only one of many such scenes daily and hourly
enacted in the gay circles of fashionable life, and jealously
guarded from the curious eye of the people's god — society. It
was only one of many instances in which the "green eyed
monster," — jealousy, had glided into a once happy home, then
"stretching out his slimy claws in all their hideousness and
lashing his long tail in fury," had frightened away the good
angels of love and trust.

The man stood leaning wearily against the costly rosewood
piano, a stern, set expression on his handsome face, his gray
eyes fiercely steady as they rested on the face and perfect figure
of his girl-wife, who returned his gaze unflinchingly and with
proud defiance.

How entrancingly beautiful, how bewitchingly winsome and
tantalizing she was in her rich cream silk ball dress, its low neck
and short sleeves showing snowy throat and faultless arms
which seemed the texture of lily petals, her dark curling hair
arranged high on the small queenly poised head, with a few
stray rebellious curls coquettishly caressing the white neck and

138 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

temples, lips red and luscious as a June strawberry, now curved
scornfully, and the rich color coming and going as she waited
for the man to speak.

A shaft of keenest pain rushed through the man's heart,
and for one brief instant he closed his eyes to shut out the lovely
vision, that he might gain courage to pursue the method he
had decided to adopt. It was no wonder, he thought, that men
should rave over her beauty. How could they help it? And,
how could she, only a girl, help feeling proud of her conquests?
Older and more experienced women were just as silly; but then,
she was his wife and must stop such desperate flirting.

"My dear Theo, why will you persist in driving me to des-
peration? The way you take on with some of these confounded
unprincipled society devils has worn my patience threadbare,"
he said, passionately.

"My dear Jack! I am so sorry; can I patch it for you?"
innocently.

"No you can't," savagely; "I've allowed you to 'patch things
up' for the very last time — do you hear?"

Well, 'darn' it then," and the way she said it, sounded as
if the sweet lips were using .profane language.

"You have got to stop flirting, Theo! Now I mean it."

"As I am no longer a child to be ordered around, would
like to know how you propose to enforce obedience to your
command," her eyes narrowing to an angry line as she sank into
a crimson velvet chair.

"I have had murder in my heart tonight, Theo, and without
a change along certain lines I shall soon be guilty in reality,
I can't and won't stand it any longer! I hope you understand."

The angry light left the glorious dark eyes and the smiles
and dimples returned as she retorted roguishly :

"Oh Jack! are you really jealous? Some great writer has
said that 'whoever has qualities to alarm our jealousy, has
excellence to deserve our fondness!" Now if that is true you
still love me — don't you?"

"Theo," impatiently, "this is no time for sentimentality. I
am sorry to be harsh and stern, but gentle measures and kind
words seem to have no weight with you. Can't you understand
that your name will soon be a by word in every club? — that the
very men who pay you such worshipful homage, will speak
lightly of you if they have not already begun it? And after

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 139

all, can a man be blamed or censured for making light remarks
about a woman who will dress in such a manner as to inflame
his passions — who will allow the arms of any good waltzer to
embrace her? Is she not to blame, entirely to blame, if with
her own imprudence, she casts aside that God-given instinct
which should be the guide of every pure woman, and tempts
a man beyond endurance? By heaven! you shall not drag my
name into the mud and mire of disgrace. I refuse to be an
object of pity among my fellow men and an outcast from decent
society," stormily.

"Decent society." she mimicked. "How often have I heard
you saj' that society was rotten to the core? And it's public
opinion you care for, not me ; the opinion of 'decent society,' "
bitterly.

"I should have said select society ; there are some few good
people mixed up in this develish riish after excitement, whose
good opinion I greatly value. But tell me — will you agree to
stop — " but something in the beautiful face arrested his words
and he looked at her deeply perplexed, doubtful and anxious.
Theo, deathly white and with clenched hands leaned forward
on the arm of her chair and for a few moments gazed into the
stern face of her husband.

"Jack, if you loved me really and truly as I once thought
you did I would seriously consider what you say. If you do love
me still, tell me so now, dear, and I will forgive and forget the
cruel things you have said. Otherwise, you haye no right to
dictate to me," tremulously.

"Love! Don't talk to me of love," he flared, "when you
absolutely crave the admiration and flattery of every masculine
member of the human race."

"That would include Hottentots, Africans and so on. Truly,
you are most amazingly complimentary, Mr. Jack Arling-
ton," and she leaned back in her chair with that dangerous light
again in her dark eyes, continuing :

"You said things just now that I shall never forget, I think.
You intimated that I was not decently dressed, and that I had
no modesty or delicacy of feeling. Am I dressed differently from
others whom I know you sincerely admire? — and have I con-
ducted myself differently?"

"But I want you to be different," he said desperately. "I.
have always thought of you as so entirely different. — But to-

140 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAV EROOM

night my idol has fallen — to the common level. You have
entirely overcome your repugnance to being embraced in public
by strange men. You waltzed in the vile embrace of the Apollo
of the t evening. Your head rested on his shoulder, your bare
arm was almost around his neck, your face upturned to his,
and your white forehead dangerously near his vile lips. He, if
not you, was filled with the rapture of sin in its intensity. His
spirit, if not yours, was inflamed with passions, and lust was
gratified in thought. Good God! It was hell to me!"

"Jack, you wrong me — you are cruel! I don't care for
flattery ; but I have liked to be admired sincerely for your sake.
Since I was a tiny girl, it has been the dream of my life to
win the love of some good and noble man, who in return should
have my whole heart. When you married me, a lonely orphan
girl, I worshipped you, Jack. In less than a year you wearied
of my passionate and ardent demonstrations of love, and chilled
me into a 'more dignified demeanor,' as you called it, which at
last grew to indifference. Oh, Jack! I am not the only one to
blame for the gulf that yawns between us. It was wrong of
you to pretend an affection you never felt — wrong of you to
marry me when your heart had long been in the possession of
another. Had I known about Cora Sullivan, I would never have
said 'yes' to you, even if she was already married," passionately.
"You had plenty of money, and surely you didn't marry me for
mine; I guess you did it for spite," brokenly.

The man's face grew suddenly drawn and white, and he
leaned more heavily against the piano trembling with agitation.

"Theo, I have told you so often that I never loved her — that
I never would have married a society woman. How proud I was
of your purity and innocence which had never been soiled by
contact with the dirty world; I did so hope we should be happy."

"How could you hope for anything, Jack, when you did not
love me? If you would only care for me, really and truly, and
let me share in all your business worries and vexations, I would
be far happier and a better wife. But honestly, I think it is
too late now. My heart seems turned to stone, and lies a dead
weight in my bosom. I don't think we are married in the sight
of heaven! I almost laugh over that preacher's solemn 'whom
therefore God hath joined together;' God — if there be a God —
certainly had nothing to do with our case, though it may be
that Satan approved and sanctioned it," and she laughed reck-

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 141

lessly.

"Theo! that sounds just like some of the devilish rot that
DuBoise talks in the club room," in almost uncontrolable rage,
eyeing her with jealous suspicion and nervously fingering his
watch chain.

"I suppose he is the man you are so jealous of — and I don't
care who it 'sounds like !' I never heard him or any one make
such an expression; it was just born out of the anguish of heart
and mind which your too frequent fits of unreasonable jealousy
have subjected me to," and the tears welled up into her eyes, her
lips became tremulous and a wave of rich color surged over her
cheeks and brow. She leaned toward her husband and looked
pleadingly into his stern set face. There was a wistful tender-
ness in her tones as she softly and shyly spoke :

"Jack, if we — if we had — a — had a little — a — darling little
baby, would you love me then?" But the man had previously
resolved that she should not 'twist him around her finger' this
time, and make him acknowledge that he had wronged her. He
would not be softened by any of her many artifices, nor admit
that he was to blame, and retorted:

"God! without a mighty reformation in your character — I
beg pardon — deportment, you should never have charge of a
child of mine. But that is nonsense — such a thing never hap-
pens to a woman who dances her life away as you have been
doing the three years since we married," contemptuously. "But
it is now half past two; I must be at the office by nine and will
bid you good night," not offering to kiss her. As he crossed the
room she sprang from her seat and confronted him, her sensi-
tive lips trembling piteously, her eyes flashing through rebel-
lious tears.

"Stop ! Jack, we will have it out now, once and forever,
the last time! I will bear your insinuations and insults no
longer. You have at last driven me to despair. I have always
been true to you in word, thought and deed. If I ever prove
false it will be because you drove me to it — remember that! I
am going to leave you; some day you will bitterly regret this
hour."

"Theo!" and he grasped her hands in a vise-like grip and
gazed in awe on her white drawn features. Ah, this was just a
passionate childish outburst of temper, he thought, but more
serious than usual.

142 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

"Theo, you dare not bring such disgrace on your head and
mine. I know we are as far apart as the poles — you crave ex-
citement and society — I detest both and everything pertaining
to either. I am sorry — but it can't be helped now ; we will have
to endure it to the bitter end," and his voice broke in great dry
sobs, as if his heart were bursting.

"But I won't endure it!'" she stormed, angrily stamping her
daintily slippered foot. "I won't be scolded and reproved all the
time as if I were a naughty child; I am a woman, and I won't
submit to such treatment at your hands a day longer — no I
won't— I'll— "

"Don't say anything rash, Theo," groaned the man in
anguish, "we will talk it over when we are both in a more
reasonable frame of mind. 1 think that neither of us should
hold the other responsible for anything we may have sai'd. If >
you are really so anxious to get away from me, you might go
with the Sheldons to Europe the last of the month — about ten
days from now. They will be gone for a year. If you wish to go
I will arrange it." And again came that shaft of pain through
the man's heart, as the thought of an empty, cheerless home
rose clearly defined before his mental vision.

"Yes, I'll go — to Europe, Africa, Asia or anywhere, just
so I get away from this hateful place of sham and hypocrisy,
where all the originality is crushed out of one ! j Oh yes, I'll go ;
and I hope I'll never see New York again," bitterly. So he
wanted to get rid of her did he? And he would send her off
with that hateful old gossip, Mrs. Sheldon, would he? Well she
would go, but not to Europe or anywhere that he could know,
to be spied upon. She would not be disposed of just as he
pleased, and in a way that he could know of and criticise every
action, — no indeed.

Jack Arlington watched the changing countenance of his
wife with inward misgivings, as she drew her hands away from
him. Truly she was a puzzle of late, and an unfathomable
mystery. Had he been too harsh? he wondered. No, he decided,
that was his last resort. He had begged and pleaded long enough
— now he would command. But somehow he felt a sense of
defeat, though he could not define it.

"Well, good-night, little one — and let's not quarrel any
more," and he stooped to kiss her, but she turned away.

"No, Jack, you need not practice any more deceit with me!

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 143

I have not forgotten that you would have left me a few moments
ago without a kiss. We won't 'patch up things' any more,"
with firm finality. He laughed a little uneasily as she paid him
back in his own coin ; then sighed heavily :

"Oh, we are even now — be satisfied, won't you?" pleadingly.
"I don't suppose you will be visible so early as I shall have to
leave, so I will say goodnight and good bye," and husband and
wife separated and went to their bedrooms.

It was not long before the man dismissed the whole dis-
agreeable subject from his mind and went to a sound healthy
sleep ; but the woman, after being waited on by her maid, dis-
missed her, and passed the long hours striding up and down her
room, wringing her hands and moaning in anguish, the picture
of grim despair. Poor girl! Circumstances and environment
were forming her into that most unfortunate of beings, an
impassioned, susceptible, ill- judging woman. With warm im-
pulsive heart and erring head, she had yet to learn of the pure,
mild and enduring virtues of the Christian, of humility and
endurance as a substitute for pride. .

Jack was surprised next morning on his way out, to hear
the piano, but a glance at his watch told him he had no time
to tarry, though he paused a moment outside the parlor door
to listen to the sad, half sobbing voice of his wife as she sang
with touching pathos :

"I'm longing, so sadly I'm longing

For the flowers that have blossomed and fled,
For the hopes that around me were thronging,

But alas ! all are withered and dead.
Beauties I thought ne'er would perish

One by one vanish away —
There's nothing on earth that we cherish

That's lovely and true that will stay."

.44 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

CHAPTER II.

"'Have you studied that man and that woman?
Have you learned every phase of their life?
Have you felt each temptation that met them ?
Have you joined in their struggle and strife?
Have you probed every hope of each bosom?
Have you measured the throb of each heart?
Have you fathomed their prayers and their passions,
And the evil from good set apart?

"Oh, refrain from this sitting in judgment,
In causes where all is not known,
And remember Christ said: 'But the stainless
Shall cast at his brother a stone'.
Reflect ere the harsh word is spoken
Desist ere the action you do,
And ask your own heart in communion,
If both are not suited to you."

As good old Dr. Brown was passing the Arlington home
that morning, he saw a drooping figure among the flowers on
the lawn, and caught the glimpse of a white despairing face
and great dark eyes, gazing after Jack as he hurried down
street as if possessed by demons.

"Something wrong with those children," he mused. "I've
thought so for some little time, and now I know it. I didn't
stay long at their ball, but I understood how it was. Theo is so
full of life that she goes a little too far with some things, but
she is pure gold, and I felt like kicking Jack for being such a
fool, lawyer though he is." And giving a little more speed to
his auto, he was soon up with Jack and called out :

"Hello! my boy, how are you? Hop in here and save your
car fare. I'm going right by your office. Don't look like you've
slept much. Well! well! these balls and late hours are a bore
to some and a boon to others. Where would the poor struggling
doctor come in, if there were no fools to commit outrages against
the laws of nature? Echo answers where? By gum! we never
would get a patient to sacrifice on the alter of experiment.
Everything that comes along brings good to somebody," chuckled
the old chatter-box as Jack took a seat beside him.

"It's certainly fortunate for me that you came along, any-
way; I have a genuine case of blue devils this morning, and if

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 145

your philosophy can't drive them away, I shall be left hopeless."
The Doctor caught the note of misery in the man's tone but
ignored it and answered cheerily :

"After effects of the ball, my boy. I had a glimpse of your
wife back there on the lawn, and she seemed similarly affected.
I declare, Jack, she was almost as white as the lilacs under which
she was standing while she watched your fine athletic figure
out of sight. She looked just like a lovely woman always feels
when her husband leaves her without a kiss," teasingly.

"I — er — was in a hurry — it was getting late — and she didn't
come to breakfast with me," stammered Jack in confusion.

"Ha! ha! what a wonderfully shrewd lawyer you are to be
so easily caught in my little trap," laughed the doctor. "So you
didn't kiss her, sure enough. Zounds ! I feel like using the
lash on somebody ; wish I were driving a horse." Then seriously :
"Jack, your wife is getting to be a wonderfully deep woman.
I've loved and studied her since she was a baby, but am begin-
ning to find fathomless depths in her nature. She has been a
long time passing from girlhood to womanhood — a serious stage
for one of her temperament. Be very tender and patient with
her, my boy. I have always been so glad that you won her from
her avaricious guardian, who wanted her for himself. No
wonder she loves you so." Jack caught his breath !

"Doctor, if she had seen more of society first, she would
never have — " he began miserably, but the doctor cut him short :

"Now, look here, my boy, I won't listen to any such tommy-
rot! I understand, and as the way is opened, I am going to
diagnose your case, and don't you dare to interrupt me. I love
you and Theo as if you were my own children, and the Lord
only knows how it hurts me to see either of you in trouble. I
was at your ball long enough last night to see under the surface
of things, though you both carried it off splendidly; but in my
thirty years practice of medicine, I've studied human nature too,
and am hard to fool. Oh, Jack, don't ever say, think or do
anything that would wring your heart with unutterable regret
if the Lord should take your wife — "

"Doctor! is she — " and Jack's gray eyes sought the doctor's
in anxiety too deep for words.

Oh, no, don't jump to unthought of conclusions — there's
nothing the matter with her so far as I know — never has been
anything serious. But I was just thinking of my own precious

146 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

wife up in heaven, and if such a fate as mine should ever happen
to be your sad lot, I hope you won't have to lie awake at night
as I have so often done, and grieve over the things I should
have done and did not, and the things I did and should not."

"I'm sure, doctor, that no man could ever be more devoted
to his wife than you were," sighed Jack, ruefully.

"Ah, yes, God knows, I thought that I was tender, affection-
ate and thoughtful, but after she was gone, I thought of many
things — little things, too, that would have cost me nothing,' that
would have filled her sweet heart with joy more often. Tender
words of affection, a stolen kiss, a loving hand clasp, and a big
bear-hug pretty often — such things are the very life of some
women — and we men, brutish creatures that we are, often let
them starve to death for lack of proper nourishment."

"Why, doctor, I guess you are getting things rather mixed,
aren't you? Whoever heard of such a thing as reallv 'living on
love?'"

"I know what I'm talking about, and so do you. You in
your practice of law, and I in my practice of medicine, have been
behind the scenes and have seen heart secrets laid bare — things
that were pitiful beyond expression, and aroused our deepest
sympathy.

The doctor now turned his auto into another street, saying :
"As I am rather fond of your company, we'll go a round-about
way. It will take several minutes yet, for me to thoroughly
diagnose your case, so I will get to the task. Since you have
been practicing law, especially since you have so successfully
handled some extremely difficult cases, I notice that you do not
practice religion much. I once thought you would be a preacher,
but you have backslidden, and I think God is beginning to ply
the lash to you. Well, it will be for your own good in the long
run, though it may hurt awfully till you come to understand it.
Jack, the practice of law is making you hard and cynical; but
as I always say, there's nothing that God can't straighten out,
and ev vything will come right in his own good time. If you
are being scourged, it is because He loves you. 'Whom the Lord
loveth he chasteneth.' I wish you could understand that God is
Love — all Love — ; He never sends an unseasonable trouble or an
unnecessary pain — nor an unsuitable mercy. Everything is well
timed. There is frequently more love in a frown than there
could be in a smile. 'As many as I love I rebuke and chasten.'

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 147

Carbuncles and boils clear the system of poison and help to
purify the blood. Fiery trials consume the dross and purify the
gold in our natures. Afflictions are nearly always real blessings
in disguise. You know those sweet lines :

"Afflictions, though they seem severe
Are oft in mercy sent —
They stopped the Prodigal's career,
And caused him to repent."

"Yes, Jack, through error we reach truth, through strug-
gles we gain victory, through shame and regret we are led to
the cross and true repentance ,and then love leads us on to the
throne. God can and does take our blunders and mistakes some-
times— yes, even our wilful sins — and overrules them for a
higher end. Some of the noblest and most consecrated Christian
women in all the world, were once anything but virtuous, but the
purifying, cleansing blood of Jesus made them 'whiter than
snow' ; they 'loved much, because much was forgiven.' Don't
ever -think that because things go contrary and cris-cross, that
the Lord has forsaken His own. Never! Remember that He
was in the ship, though the desciples were afraid of the storm.

"Ah! Jack, the love of God is a boundless ocean; believe
confidently, pray fervently, expect largely, walk humbly and
repent daily. Why fret and worry? We are here for such a
little time; the race is short at best, the pilgrimage rough, the
voyage dangerous, the combat fierce, but we 'can do all things
through Christ who strengthened us' ; and there is a glorous
reward for the faithful ; a happy end, a triumphant victory, eter-
nal life and a heavenly mansion."

A suspicious moisture had gathered in the lawyer's eyes
and he turned his face from the doctor, but spoke not a word.
The good old man had tactfully talked on, carefully watching
for some sign of the Spirit's softening influence, and now ten-
derly and gently, every word breathing of Christian love and
sympathy, he spoke again :

"My dear boy, drive that demon of jealousy from your
bosom, or I fear you and Theo will have serious trouble. You
cannot subdue her proud spirit, but you may kill her love for you.
A pure woman will never submit to jealous suspicion. Don't
put a 'curb bit' on her; let her go her own way for awhile,

148 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

and she will soon tire of it. Remember, you are fifteen years
older than she, and had tired of society before she entered it.
One person never learns by another's experienc and she will
just have to learn as you did, that society is no good, and never
satisfies a truly noble soul; and when the fitful fever is over
she will be a steady, helpful, loving wife, better and stronger,
perhaps, because of bitter experiences."

"Perhaps," returned Jack, cut to the heart. "But my God!
the risk, doctor, the risk! and how can I stand to have her
flirt — " Jack stopped as he caught the doctor's reproachful and
almost contemptuous glance. For a moment they gazed into each
other's faces, but in guilty confusion, the lawyer soon dropped
his eyes. The doctor, looking straight ahead, spoke musingly, as
if to himself:

"Well, well! what strange critters we mortals be anyhow.
There's hardly a woman living who is not good enough for the
best of men, any day in the year! Here's a fellow, though,
who used to go in for the fastest kind of a life ; he flirted with
married and single ; had several fights about other men's wives ;
was mixed up in the biggest kind of a scandal and did a lot
of things he wouldn't dare tell his wife about. Yet, he thinks
he deserves an angel for a mate. He demands that his little
girl-wife shall fly from dangers that she is too innocent to know
exist, and he would raise the very old Harry, if she should
let another so much as kiss her hand in mock gallantry. Well,
well, well."

Jack looked at his old friend resentfully and said in a hard
strained voice: "I would break your head if you were any one
else. I never would have thought that you would bring up
old scores like this — things that have been forgotten by man and
forgiven by God. I am painfully surprised and grieved to think
you, who I thought my best friend, have treasured in your
heart the sins of my youth. I think you have missed your
calling. You should have been the preacher — not I," bitterly.

The old doctor laughingly ignored Jack's attitude, and
replied :

"Bless your soul, my boy, I do preach every day. One
doesn't have to wear the long tailed coat and stove pipe hat to
become a preacher. I'm doing my best just now, to lead a
'wandering sheep' back into the fold, where he may walk in
green pastures and beside the still waters ; but it's a contrary old

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 149

ram, and he shakes his head, shows his horns, gives a snort of
defiance, kicks up his heels and declares he'll stay out till he
gets ready to return of his own free will; and maybe then the
gate will be closed against him forever ; poor old ram ! Or maybe
he'll continue to wander in forbidden paths, till after awhile his
wool will be so full of briars, thorns and cockle-burrs, that he'll
bring nothing worth having to his master. But the master is a
good shepeherd and can shear off the tangled fleece, and if the
old rascal lives long enough, he may at last furnish a little pure
white wool which may be used for good by the weaver of destiny.
But it is such a pity — such a waste of time and — wool!"

Jack could not repress a sigh of relief as he saw his office
in sight. He was anxious to get away from this friend who was
too honest to pat him on the back and call him "good boy"
under any and all circumstances. Truly, the doctor had aggra-
vated that case of "blue devils" instead of bringing him relief.

"Here we are at your office, and I haven't given you the
chance to get a word in edgeways," chuckled the doctor, stopping
his machine.

Jack sprang out. His accusing conscience bade him ascknowl-
edge the truth and the old man's wisdom, but it was hard for
this strong man to do. He could not confess, even to this life-
long friend that he had lost the joys of salvation,though he
admitted it to himself.

His hearty grip of the hand, and the light in his gray eyes
spoke more eloquently than words could have done, though he
did manage to stammer confusedly :

"Doctor, you are my one true friend — in spite of all — in
spite of how you have hurt me — I know that, and I thank you.
But it hurts, oh! how it hurts." The doctor still clung to his
hand :

"Yes, my boy, it hurts to probe for a bullet or to pull a
tooth ; but when all is over and the wound healed, all parties
repoice. It hurts a doctor to do surgical work, but he knows
what is best for his patient, and goes ahead cutting off legs,
arms or whatever is required to save life. It is not at all pleas-
ant work, but the end justifies the means. God bless you, Jack,
jump back into the pasture, and my word for it, all will come
right at last. Good-bye, my dear boy, good-bye," and the doctor
was gone.

Jack went slowly up the office steps, his heart and soul

150 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM •

stirred with conflicting emotions. He was miserable. That song
and the half sobbing voice of the singer haunted him. He
wished he had followed the impulse of his heart and had gone
into the parlor and taken the little woman in his arms. But
then, why hadn't she met him at breakfast, if she really was
"longing for the flowers that had blossomed and fled." He hardly
knew which he wanted most, peace with God, or peace with
Theo. Could he have both ? If he turned to God as he fervently
wished he could do, he could never allow another ball in his
house — nor sanction one by his presence. And what would Theo
say to such restrictions?

Slowly it dawned on his mind that if he had always stood
firm and strong on his convictions of right, she would have
respected his wishes and have had more reason to respect him.
But during their honeymoon they had attended balls innumer-
able, and he, too, had danced and wajtzed with the gayest, and
when he wanted to "call a halt" she was not at all ready; and as
he seemingly for a time enjoyed them as he did years ago, what
could he say?

Jimmie, the bright sixteen-year-old red headed, freckled
faced, blue-eyed office boy, had already swept, dusted and placed
everything in apple-pie order, and was looking earnestly through
a ponderous volume of law. His face brightened when Jack
entered and greeted him pleasantly, and it was easy to see the
boy loved his employer devotedly. Presently he spoke, and his
voice had a ring of decision :

"I've given up being like you, Mr. Jack." Jack caught his
breath. Had he fallen in Jimmie's estimation, too?

"Glad to hear it, Jimmie ; I'm certainly not worthy to be
your model — I know that much," humbly.

"Mr. Jack, you are the best man living. Where would I be
now if you, hadn't taken me offen the streets? Where was I
headed to? Why, straight to perdition, with a full head of
steam and no brakes, no father* no mother to love me or care
what became of my carcass. But words ain't no account, — it'll
take the devotion and love of my whole life, to repay what I owe
you. But I just meant I won't be a lawyer as we have planned
and talked about. I'd never learn all this," tapping the big
book. "But I am going to be a detective," earnestly.

"Oh, well, then, we will still be partners," smiling. "You
can catch the game and I'll skin 'em."

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM lol

•

CHAPTER III.

"Some trifle light as nothing

Caused our difference at first ;
But in my heart the planting

Of the anger seed I nursed,
Until it grew and strengthened,

A weed with blooms full blown,
And now I reap the harvest

Of the seed in passion sown."

Jimmie detected something wrong in the loved voice, and
glancing with quick concern at his employer's troubled face, he
felt instinctively that his levity was assumed and his cheerful-
ness forced.

"Oh, yes, a ball last night," he mused. "Mr. Jack is always
like this after a big to-do. Wonder why? I'd never want to
go to one of the blamed things if I thought they'd effect me
that way."

The lawyer had taken a seat at his desk, showing very little
interest in the pile of unopened mail that Jimmie had carefully
arranged near to his hand. But there was something else on
the desk that had the man's immediate attention. It was a
lovely photograph of his wife taken two years ago, when a bride
of one year. The face was pure and innocent as a little child's
and gazed with a kind of soft rapture from the frame of crimson
plush. Theo had placed the picture there when first taken, and
when he thanked her, she had playfully pulled his ears and in
mock solemnity, declared it was to remind him of her existence
when he had lady clients calling for advice.

Just now he looked on the picture with mingled tenderness
and regret, studying every feature as if each line and curve
were not indelibly stamped upon his heart. The memory of last
night's stormy interview was like lead in his bosom, and oppress-
ed him with a sense of uneasiness. He had never seen Theo
like that before, though they quarreled frequently of late. Ah,
why had he not gone to her there in the parlor? Wasn't that
song a prayer for his love? — for the sweet things that had fled
from their lives? Was her heart aching as his? Did she care?
— if so why did she refuse him a good-night kiss? Then his
accusing conscience cried : "She did right — you refused her

152 » FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

first ! Do you expect always to bend that lovely creature to your
will? Is she a child to be petted one moment and scolded the
next? Didn't she plead for your love? Didn't she show that in
her heart she longed to share all things in common with you?
Had you encouraged her she would have opened her heart to you
as she has not done for so long. But no, you treated her worse
than a brute would have done — scorned her tender pleading and
even insulted her beyond pardon when she timidly spoke on a
subject which she had never before approached."

How could he have been so cruel? Jack wondered. It was
then that she had so bitterly denounced him, declaring she would
no longer submit to such treatment. • Oh, heaven ; had he
wounded her past forgiveness? He realized at last that she
was no longer a child, but a proud, passionate woman, such as
he had never dreamed of her being. With a pang of remorse he
remembered her childish, trusting confidence during the first
year of their married life ; how she would hide in the shrubbery
or swing on the front gate, waiting for him in the evening ; how
her lovely face would light up at sight of him and she would -cry
out in glad welcome: — "Oh, Jack; home at last, you dear old
precious darling," and he would playfully retort, "You kiss my
foot," while she would declare she loved him well enough to do
that very thing, and as soon as they were in doors she would
almost smother him in kisses. Then she would help him take
off his over coat and would bring his slippers, bustling around
in a sweet little fussy way until he was seated in a great arm
chair; then she would sit on a low hassock at his feet, leaning
lovingly against him, or perch herself on the chair arm, with
both her arms around his neck and her face against his, she
would tell him of every little detail, of the day, talking in a
cheery, bird-like way, ever and anon calling him her "own
darling."

He remembered too, — how distinctly! — that he had grown
a little tired of such childish "gush," and had tried in a clumsy,
blundering way to make her understand that he would like for
her to be a little more dignified and a little less demonstrative.
He remembered as if it were but yesterday, how she had drawn
awaj" from his arms and gazed with wide troubled eyes for a
full minute into his face, seeking evidence that she had misun-
derstood; how at last the dark eyes filled with tears, the sweet
lips trembled and her cheeks grew white as she spoke in puzzled

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 153

amazement :

"Do you mean, dearest, that when you come home after
being away from me all the long day, I must not run to the
gate to meet you? — I must not be so glad to have you with me
again? — I must not caress you? — must check every impulse
which says so plainly that I love you? All right! Your royal
highness shall be obeyed." Then she had fled from him, locked
herself in her room and refused to come out or admit him,
and for two long hours he had paced up and down the hall, alter-
nately cursing himself for wounding the "sensitive child," and
pleading at the door for a chance to explain. But he had never
been able to make a satisfactory explanation, and since that day
had never received an unsought caress, nor had any reason to
complain of childish "gush."

Oh, if he could just have Theo back as she was in those
happy days — sweet and innocent, trusting and confiding! Oh,
to have the comforting assurance that a vision of girlish loveli-
ness would be hidden in the shrubbery or swinging on the
gate to welcome him home — that a soft little hand would steal
into his on the walk to the house! Oh, to have her perched on
his chair with her arms twined lovingly around his neck in that
sweet , childish way that had once wearied him. Oh, to hear
those rose-bud lips whisper between loving kisses as of old, "My
precious, darling boy!" But the past was gone — could never be
recalled — all was over now, — she had said she would never for-
give him. Jack groaned aloud in anguish, forgetting the young
"detective" who was watching him in deep concern and much
perplexity, and now swiftly crossing the room, stood at his side :

"Got a headache, Mr. Jack? CanJ do anything for you?"
anxiously.

"No, Jimmie, no, — just suffering a reaction from last
night's revelry."

"Had a swell time, I guess, didn't you?"

"That's probably the popular verdict. But I pronounce it a
dickens of a time — something especially pleasing to the devil,
I think." Jimmie's eyes opened wide in surprise.

"Don t you enjoy 'em, Mr. Jack?"

The lawyer laughed bitterly :

No, Jimmie, not as I once did. The devil shows his hoofs,
horns and tail too plainlv. He is not at all discreet when at a
ball."

154 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

"Well, beg pardon, sir; — but why do you go in for such
things then?"

"Oh, it's a duty we owe society, my boy — and you'd better
spell society with every letter a capital," sarcastically.

The hours dragged slowly away. There were several clients
and an extra amount of business to attend to, so the lawyer
could not run home for his two o'clock lunch as he had hoped,
and phoned to Theo that he would go to a restaurant as usual on
busy days. He tried to .get up a conversation with her, but "All
right," "yes," and "no," were the only responses that came
from her, and he said "good-bye" reluctantly, turning from the
phone with a sigh that was not lost on the observant Jimmie,
who had covertly watched him all day with his blue eyes half
closed in that peculiar way he had, when puzzling over a hard
problem.

It was now half -past three and the busy man saw no chance
to get away before seven, or later, and bit his lips with impati-
ence, feeling half inclined to go out and tear down his sign and
throw up the whole thing. He wondered with a sickening sense
of desolation, how he could go home at all, if Theo really should
go to Europe, with twelve long months and hundreds of miles
separating them. In the meantime, Jimmie's quick wit and
keen perception had solved the problem, at least to his own sat-
isfactnon. He felt intuitively that there had been a domestic
jar, but it could be nothing serious, he was sure. Looking from
the window he suddenly called out suggestively :

"Oh, Mr. Jack ! Just look across at the florist's. Did you
ever see such lovely carnations ? Gee ! when I get rich and have
a purty wife, I'll send her some like them. Say, now wouldn't
Mrs. Theo have a fit over them beauties? I've heard her say
lots of times when she was up her, and admiring the florist's
flowers, that carnations were her favorites."

Jack glanced furtively at the boy, and mentally decided
that "the young rascal" really had detective ability. Taking a
bill from his pocket, he said to Jimmie : "Go and get the finest
dozen he has — no — wait. I'll select them myself," he added,
reaching for his hat.

"That would be better, Mr. Jack, and she will appreciate
'em more." Jack soon returned with the fragrant flowers beau-
tifully arranged in a long moss lined box of artistic design, and
with the light of a new resolve in his eyes. Seating himself at

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 155

his desk and glancing at the lovely photo before him, the stern,
cynical lawyer yielded to a tender impulse, and wrote his wife
a love letter, every line breathing forth the anguish and remorse
of his heart, and pleading for a return of what he had lost.

"Dearest, darling little wife : I have been a brute and am
not worthy to be forgiven ; but if you knew how terribly I have
suffered and how sincerely repented through this day which
seems unending, your tender heart would pity and forgive me.
Dearest one, I think I never loved you so much -as now when I
begin to fear that I have lost your love. I, too, am 'longing for
the flowers that have blossomed and fled.' Dear heart, be gen-
erous and give me the chance to make the flowers bloom again.
Oh, my little angel, I never have been and never shall be worthy
of you^ but if you will come back to my heart as in the sweet
happy past, I will be true to the trust. Darling, try and under-
stand that it was my great love that made me so insanely
jealous. Didn't you know it, Pet? Meet me this evening down
at the gate just as you used to do — please do. And then if you
want to make me the happiest man in existence, when we get
into the house, come to me of your own sweet will, throw your
arms around my neck and call me your 'Boy,' for my heart is
starving for your sweet caresses. Sweetheart, it is such a short
time till you go to Europe — if you really will go and leave your
'Boy.' Oh, for God's sake, forgive me and let us be happy
while we may. I have so much to say to my precious one this
evening I can hardly wait till I can tear myself away from this
hateful office and come to you, my own. Now, dearest, please
accept these flowers and this note as proof of my sincere repent-
ance, and come to the gate to meet your 'Boy' if you love him
ever so little. Bye-bye, till I see my Pet. Your own Jack."

Perhaps the lawyer would have been ashamed of his note,
and called it too much "gush" if he had taken time to read it
over; but a client came in just then, and hastily placing the note
in among the flowers he tied the box carefully with violet rib-
bons and sent Jimmie to deliver them to Theo. The boy felt
that he was a messenger of peace, and with joy in his loyal heart,
was soon ringing the bell at the Arlington home. Theo opened
the door herself and came out dressed in a dark traveling
costume, with heavy veil over her face. A cab man came out
with a heavy valise and took it to a carriage that was waiting
at the gate. Theo did not notice Jimmie till he spoke :

156 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

"Here is a present from Mr. Jack and it seems that I got here
just in time — It's a box of carnations, madam, the finest I ever
ever seen in my life," he stammered placing the box in her hands
with an uncomfortable feeling that something was wrong.

"Thank you, Jimmie — and thank Jack; but no — you didn't
get them here in time," and Jimmie detected a queer little catch in
her voice. Then she walked quickly out to the carriage, sprang
in and closed the doqr, and was driven rapidly away leaving
Jimmie looking after her in deep perplexity.

"Gee! something is wrong — I feel it in my bones. There's
a screw loose somewhere in this here domestic machinery. But
no, maybe I'm too. smart. I hain't seen anything to rouse my
suspicion — no, by jings, it's what I feel in the wind, that gets
me all choked up and my mind befuddled." But try as he would,
Jimmie could not banish that oppressive something that whis-
pered that trouble was in store for his beloved Mr. Jack, though
he never dreamed how terribly serious. He hurried back to the
office but there were several people claiming the attention of the
lawyer, and it was more than an hour before he had the chance
to speak: .

"I got there just as she was going out somewhere, Mr. Jack,
and she said they did not come in time, but sent thanks."

"Did not come in time for what? Good God! — " he gasped,
dropping into his seat. Then bravely pulling himself together,
he continued :

"Oh, yes, she was going to the big ball, I suppose. Who had
come for her — Lady Carruther?" trying to hide his agony and
suspense.

"That was just it, I guess, Mr. Jack, for she had a valise;
guess her dress was in there. And she was going ahead to have a
little visit. No, sir, there wasn't anybody else as I saw, — only
the cab man." returned Jimmie, his heart aching with appre-
hension.

"And she did not take the flowers — did not open the box —
nor read the note?" and the lawyer's hands trembled in spite of
his efforts at self control.

"Oh, yes, sir, she took 'em with her. She was in a big
hurry. Guess she opened the box soon as she was in the car-
riage." The lawyer scorned to quiz the boy or let him see the
effect his information was having. But it was in vain that he
fought against the icy hand that clutched at his heart, and curtly

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 157

dismissed his remaining client, saying it was his hour to close,
Jack was soon on his way home. No one met him at the gate.
No sweet vision of girlish beauty met him at the door with lov-
ing words of welcome. No soft white arms were twined around
his neck — there were no rosebud lips waiting to caress him.
Jack groaned aloud. A distant jingle of silver told him that
faithful old Chloe was arranging his supper but where, or where,
could Theo be?

"Calling the house keeper and assuming an I-know-all-about
-it air, he quietly asked if Theo had left any final message for
him.

"Oh, yes sir. She was dreadfully cut up about leaving with-
out seeing you again, but it was so near train time when the tele-
gram came and she said her friend was at the point of death.
Yes, sir, there's a letter on your desk."

"All right, thank you," And lighting a cigar, Jack walked
unconcernedly to his room, entered and closed the door. Had she
really gone to the bedside of a dying friend or was that just a
simple ruse to outwit the house keeper, and keep the servants
from gossiping? Oh, God," he groaned, dashing the cigar from
the window and sinking into a chair, "Oh, God, have mercy on
me — be good to me this once!" and with trembling hands he
opened the letter :

"Good-bye, Jack, good-bye forever, I know you do not love
me and tolerate me only because you dread public opinion. I care
nothing for it, and have left you forever. Don't try to find me,
for it would be a vain endeavor and I'd die before I'd submit to
such insults as you heaped upon me last night. I'll never forgive
you — no, never ! You can tell "society" that I have gone to Boston

to see a sick friend, and that I will go from there to

anywhere you please.

"Oh, Jack, this is so hard to bear. My heart almost fails me,
but you have said that you are sorry, and that we are as far apart
as the poles ; so farewell. I hope you will be happy, though I am
heart-broken.

. Theo."

158 FROM BALL ROOM TO 'WEAVE ROOM

CHAPTER IV

"If thou but suffer God to guide thee,
And hope in Him through all thy ways,
He'll give thee strength, whate'er betide thee

And bear thee through the evil days.
Who trusts in God's unchanging love,
Builds on a Rock that naught can move.

"God knows full well when gladness

Shall be the needful thing for thee ;
When He has tried thy soul with sadness,
And from all guile has found thee free,
He'll come to thee all unaware,
And make thee own his loving care."

When Dr. Brown reached his home about nine o'clock in the
evening, he drew a deep tired sigh. Perhaps, too, there was
more than weariness in that sigh. The great house seeemed as
lonely to the old man as when his companion had first left him,
for her Home above. In his daily ministrations among high and
low, rich and poor, he saw much sorrow and suffering of heart
and soul, caused by cruel and thoughtless words and actions, but
somehow he had never before been so deeply interested, as m
the trouble he had run across today.

How strange it was, he thought, that people would not be
happy when they could. Ah, if Jack and Theo would only profit
by the bitter experiences of others — if they could only under-
stand that half the misery in the world is caused by the sowing
of seeds of unkind thoughts — and then the inevitable reaping.
"There's nothing in the world to keep those two children from
being happy, if they would only be reasonably sensible and for-
bearing. It's so easy. I know they love each other. But ah, me.
Theo has never tasted the joys of salvation, and Jack is in a
worse fix than if he never had, I do believe. God can straighten
it all out though, if they will only let Him," he concluded.

As the doctor walked into his study, a man with tousled
hair, pale, haggard, cold and trembling, staggered forward to
meet him, with hands outstretched piteously and entreatingly.
The light was burning brightly but the doctor did not at first
recognize his visitor. When he did so he caught him by the

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 159

shoulders and gazed with consternation into the suffering man's
face and exclaimed :

"Why, Jack! what is the matter? My boy, what is it?"
in alarm. All thought of fatigue was gone now, and the good
old man was concerned only for his friend, whose answer was a
deep groan of mental anguish, and a silent, despairing shake of
his head.

"Jack — there, sit down and tell me your trouble," gently
pushing him into a chair." "Is Theo ill? — why did you leave
her?" But Jack answered not a word, and stared at the doctor
in that awful unseeing way which bordered on insanity. Truly
unless his mind was soon relieved, the results would be serious.
Touching an electric button which summoned a servant, the doc-
tor ordered a glass of wine, and forced it down the lawyer's dry
throat. Then he drew a chair up close, and gently and lovingly
as a woman, he stroked the cold and trembling hands and talked
in soft, soothing manner, while his heart was silently pleading
aid from on high, a source which never failed him. Presently
he said, firmly:

"Now Jack, you must tell me at once what is wrong."

"I've killed her — my beautiful Theo — last night after the
ball," came a queer voice.

"Now, Jack," shaking him playfully, "that won't do — I've
seen her twice today, and she was very much alive, I think."

"But she is dead — dead to me — and all my fault! Oh, poor
little girl ! Doctor you opened my eyes this morning, and I had
determined to profit by the lesson. I have been a jealous brute
of late, — but I loved her to distraction and could not bear to see
her smile so sweetly on others. I have killed her love for me —
I am wretched and undone! Read that," thrusting a crumpled
note into the doctor's hand. It was Theo's note, and the good
old man read it with an aching heart and silently returned it.
Jack broke out again :

"Doctor, stand by me in this dark hour of trial, and tell me
what to do. I have just sense enough to know that I am on the
verge of insanity. Help me, or I shall go mad." Oh, it was
pitiful !

"My poor boy! Of course I'll stand by you. But this is so
serious that I dare make no move till we get advice from higher
source.

You mean to call in detectives?" groaned Jack.

160 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

"No, I had not thought of that. I mean — Jack will you
kneel with me in prayer?" in a deep troubled voice. Jack's heart
rose in rebellion :

"Pray? Waste time praying to a cruel and unjust God who
punishes me when I am making every effort to reform? I feel
more like — "

"Stop ! no more ! No man living, be he in the lowest depths
of despair, shall speak so to me of my heavenly Father, and go
unreproved. I love you, but I love my Maker more, and — Jack,
will you kneel with me?" the old doctor's passionate protest
ended in a tender plea, and without another word, poor Jack
sank in humble silence to his knees by his friend, who grasped
his hand as if determined to take him to a throne of grace, and
prayed as man seldom prays — as if looking into the face of his
heavenly father, and believing implicitly in his love and wisdom :

"Father, Lord of heaven and earth we, thy little children
are in trouble and sore distress, and come to Thee for help. We
cannot see through the dark clouds of providence, but help us to
trust thy plain and positive promises. Thou hast said, 'Fear
not I am With thee ; be not dismayed ; For I am thy God. When
thou passeth the waters I will be with thee; and through the
rivers, they shall not overflow thee ; when thou walkest through
the fire thou shalt not be burned ; neither shall the flames kindle
upon thee.'

"Oh, Father, we thank thee for such sweet promises, and
for the comforting influence of the Holy Spirit. We know that
Thou art able to straighten out all this tangle which so distresses
and perplexes us, and make everything work out for our good
and Thy glory. The tempest may howl and Satan may press us
hard, but Jesus reigns forever. No earthly woe can mar Thy
work or change Thy decree, and though the way is sometimes
dark, we know there is light beyond. What Thou doest we know
not now, but we shall know bye and bye, and will acknowl-
edge it was for the best. Strengthen our faint hearts with the
blessed assurance that Thou hast never forsaken a soul that
trusted in Thee for help in time of trouble. Oh, God, cast out
every fear; bid every doubt be gone, and let us feel that under-
neath are the everlasting arms. Comfort us, oh Father, and give
us that faith which gilds the darkened hour. We resign all into
Thy wise hands and trust Thee to guide and direct our steps
through the difficulties which lie before us. Be with the absent

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 161

one, Oh, God, watch over and guard her from all harm. Save
her, oh Father, and when it seemeth good to Thee, reunite these
sundered hearts and make them one for Thee. We ask it all in
the name of Jesus and for his sake. Amen."

"Surely God will hear your prayer — He loves you," ex-
claimed the lawyer hopefully as they rose from their knees.
Thank heaven for such a friend as you are."

"But Jack, there's still another friend if you will accept
Him — one who 'sticketh closer than a brother,' returned the doc-
tor, earnestly. Then after a pause : "My boy, how many know
of this?"

"No one besides ourselves — but Jimmie suspects something
I think. The servants think she's gone to Boston to see a sick
friend. They surely don't know that she took only a valise. But
what shall I do? For God's sake let's do something or I shall
go mad," groaned Jack.

"You don't want this made public if it can be helped, so
brace up and act your part like a man. Do you know how much
money she took with her?"

"Five thousand dollars. The rest of her money she made
over to me. As if I could touch it — oh, Theo!"

"How did she manage it?" gasped the doctor.

"Why she simply made out two checks of ten thousand each,
made payable to me, and left them with the note," and the lawyer
almost choked.

"Well, well, she's sharp. But you keep a stiff upped lip, my
boy, and I am sure we shall soon find her," encouraged the doc-
tor.

"Oh, poor little girl! Poor little Theo! I'd give my life —
my very soul, to have you back again," and Jack was almost be-
side himself.

"Now, Jack, brace up. Have faith in God. Just as sure as
He rules on high He will bring you back together some sweet
day, and you will love each other better for all this trouble. If
I live long enough, I fully expect to hear you acknowledge that
this trial was the greatest blessing that was ever bestowed upon
you. Trials, troubles and tribulations are necessary, Jack, and
they are bound to come. These light afflictions which are but for
a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal

162 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

weight of glory."

"Doctor, I'd be so glad if I could believe and trust in God
just as you do. I know it would bring comfort to my soul. But
I forgot Him in days of happiness and prosperity, and cannot —
will not, go to Him now. If I had been true to Him, I might
approach Him with confidence."

"Well, Jack, if you will not be led by the hand of mercy,
you may expect to be driven by the hand of justice. God will
have -His own."

After a long talk in which many plans were discussed, it
was decided that Jimmie must know. The lawyer was confident
that it was perfectly safe to trust the boy, and besides, it was
necessary to question him concerning the cab man. They also
decided to place the matter in the hands of private detectives,
with instructions to work secretly. They hoped to have the fair
fugitive back before gossiping tongues began to wag, and to keep
the dreadful truth from becoming public. After a few days
had passed and no satisfactory clue had been obtained, Jack Ar-
lington, a man who had always prided- himself on his strong
will and self control, gave way to numb despair and was unfit
for business. He could not go through the farce of playing in-
difference, when his whole heart and soul were torn with ten
thousand conflicting emotions. Where, oh, where could Theo be?

Who had helped her to plan such a thing? Had any one?
How could she, dear little thing, who had always been so de-
pendent on him to direct her, how could she so successfully have
hidden her tracks? Had a fate worse than death overtaken her?
Had she been lured from home by some one she trusted and
forcibly placed in some den of vice? These and other horrible
thoughts presented themselves before the man's mind while con-
science loudly declared that he alone was the cause of it all, and
no wonder the man was almost mad.

Then the thought that she did not wish to be found — the
very fr?.t that she had declared she would never forgive him,
haunted him day and night, waking or sleeping. But the doctor
tried to encourage him, and always quoted these sentences from
her note: "Oh, Jack, this is hard to bear. My heart almost
fails me ; but you say you are sorry and that we are as far apart
as the poles, — so farewell. I hope you will be happier. I am
heartbroken," and he contended that she loved him still and was

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 163

heartbroken over the gulf that separated them and the desperate
step she was taking. Dr. Brown never lost hope and he was a
source of great comfort to the lawyer who was growing thin and
pale under the burden of a sorrow that was far worse than death.

In a few days he took down his sign and gave up his busi-
ness, and with the faithful Jimmie who watched over him with
all the tender solicitude of a woman, he left New York on a
secret mission, — left to travel over the Northern States, in quest
of the loved and lost.

The leading New York papers startled society, by announc-
ing that "Mrs. Jack Arlington, who has been for several days in
Boston, has been joined by her husband whose health is very
much impaired of late, owing to too close application to busi-
ness. They are to cross the deep blue ocean for a visit through
foreign countries, and will probably be gone for several months,
if not a year. It will all depend on the distinguished lawyer's
health. They will, be greatly missed in social circles, as Mrs.
Arlington is a decided favorite among the fashionable set. Their
many friends wish them a happy voyage and a speedy return to
New York."

Old Dr. Brown heard from them occasionally, he declared,
but was not at liberty to furnish an address, as "Jack wished to
rest." He would spin a little yarn sometimes, about their 'ad-
ventures' in foreign lands, and then ask God to forgive him if
it was wrong to keep Jack's secret at the expense of truth.

In the meantime, detectives were busily engaged, trying in
vain to trace the steps of the lost one, but never one clue could
they get which led farther than a certain street where she had left
one carriage and taken another. The detectives reported every
clay to Dr. Brown, and he in turn would communicate with Jack,
who kept him posted as to his whereabouts. Day after day,
week after week, month after month, the search went on, till
at last Jack gave up all hope. He would not return to New York,
yet, though, for he could not bear old associations and familiar
scenes, nor' the many questions that solicitous friends were sure
to ask.

Jimmie kept his eyes open, and was never satisfied if he
could not get a glimpse of every veiled face, hoping against hope
that he might be the one to find a clue, and bring a ray of hope
and comfort to the sad heart of his beloved employer.

164 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

CHAPTER V

"Yesterday, now, is a part of forever

Bound up in a sheath which God holds tight,

With glad days and sad days and bad days which never
Shall visit us more with their bloom and their blight,

Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful night."

As Theo watched Jack from the lawn that morning, she
knew it was for the last time. Clinging to the lilac bush for sup-
port she watched him till lost to view. Then her white lips
whispered :

"Gone! gone, forever. Oh, Jack, my once loving and be-
loved husband, farewell ! You love me no longer — you are tired
of me, and I will go. Dear Jack, I wonder if you will some times
think of me tenderly? Good bye!"

When he left her without word, paid no heed to her passion-
ate heart cry as she sang in the parlor, her mind was fully made
up. As his steps died away in the hall and she heard the front
door open and close, hope died and her heart seemed turned to
stone. She had been abused and insulted, now she was forsaken,
and her passionate, impulsive and sensitive nature rose in bitter
rebellion. She was wounded, grieved and angry, and as she
walked out on the lawn, her blue silk morning dress trailing
unheeded over the dewy grass, her head proudly erect and hands
clasped together, she was a gloriously beautiful woman — proud
and defiant. But when Jack was lost to view and she realized
that she should never see him again, love conquered pride, and
that agonized whisper, "good bye," told how terrible was the
struggle.

Slowly retracing her steps to the house, she went to her
room and took herself in hand. Going to a full length mirror,
she gazed in consternation on the pale face reflected there.
Presently she stamped her foot and cried out scornfully, angrily :
"For shame, Theodosia Arlington! — no, I guess you are The-
odosia Grey again, after this. I don't know about that yet. But
don't you dare lose your color or your senses over the perfidy
of any man, do you hear? I'll simply hate you beyond endurance
if you give way to a silly, sickening, sentimentality, and let pride
take a back seat. I don't know what you are going to do but it
will be best for you to learn something, something that will keep

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 165

your mind and energies occupied. You are young, healthy and
strong, and can work if you wish to. Jack Arlington is nothing
to you — cares nothing for you; keep that in mind eternally if
you cannot altogether forget his existence. He has wounded
and insulted you beyond pardon — remember that when you think
of him. You have ruined his life, too, I guess, but you did not
seek him out and woo him with honeyed words as he did you,
so don't worry. You won't need to take all your money as you
are going to find work, so you can leave some to the man who is
so sorry he married you, as a sort of reparatiton for the uninten-
tional wrong you did him when you said 'yes.' Now get about
your business, and break down if you dare!" Pride had come
to the rescue, and her color had returned.

As has been stated she arranged for Jack to get all her
money except five thousand dollars, which she carefully sewed in
her underwear placing enough in her purse for immediate needs ;
but she never once thought of her real estate property which
brought in a large yearly income.

After making all her arrangements she had a short confer-
ence with her housekeeper, and asked that she call Jack's atten-
tion to the note she had left on his desk.

Theo had laid no plans. She had no idea which train she
would take or in what direction she would go, — her one and only
mature idea being to get away from Jack, securely hide herself
from all who had ever known her, and to forget the past; to
begin life over again in some far distant and isolated place,
where she would not be thrown continually into society. Society !
ah, was she beginning to hate it as Jack did? She wondered.
If so, they could be happy yet — but no, love was dead and could
never be resurrected. She was an unloved wife — did not even
have her husband's respect, she thought. Had she merited such
bitter reproach from him? The memory of past scenes rose be-
fore her mental vision, and the red blood rushed in a guilty tor-
rent over her face; she remembered a too passionate clasp of
hands, half unconscious embraces, expressive eyes and impas-
sioned tones of ardent admirers during the mazy waltz.

Had she indeed been on the verge of an awful precipice and
in clanger of toppling over into a yawning chasm to be wrecked on
the treacherous rocks of temptation and vanity? The thought
startled her at first. Then laughing recklessly she said: "No,

166 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

I've not been in the least danger of falling. I can take care of
myself. I've done no wrong and never shall be false to my mar-
riage vows ; but I won't be a living corpse — I won't die till I have
to, for death is the end of everything, I am sure. If there really
were such places as heaven and hell, and such a thing as eternity,
and if people truly believed it, there would be a mighty stirring
time and a big change in this old universe. But it is all nonsense
and I won't think of it. Life is what we make it — either heaven
or hell — and death is the end." And she resolutely banished the
subject from her mind.

She did not fully realize until the last how it would wrench
and tear her heart to leave the pretty home nest where for a
time she had been so supremely happy as Jack's wife. She
wandered from room to room, touching with reverent hands the
different articles of furniture and daintj^ furnishings, wonder-
ing what Jack would do witth everything. Perhaps he would
get a divorce and marry Cora Sullivan, who was now a widow.
The thought made her shudder, though in her inmost soul she
knew he would never marry again. But what if he did? Who
cared? It could make no difference to her. Then she immedi-
ately did something that stamped the assertion as a libel.

She was ready to go; her hat and veil had already been
fastened ; she paused for a moment in the hall and looked around ;
there were no servants in sight, so, snatching a pair of Jack's
gloves from a small stand and kissing them passionately, she
carefully placed them in her bosom. Then running into the
parlor, she opened a lovely pearl and plush covered album, drew
out one of Jack's pictures and placed that, too, over her heart,
feeling guilty as any thief. Bitter tears rushed to her eyes, but
were dried with angry vehemence. Her heart beat suffocatingly,
but with iron will she mastered the pain, and with one more
hungry look around, she drew her veil down carefully and with
dignity and haughty bearing walked out on the broad piazza,
followed by the cab man who had just entered for her valise,
and there was Jimmie with Jack's peace offering.

It was with great difficulty that. she controlled her emotions
and walked to her carriage.

"Where to ma'am?" inquired the man, hearing no order'
given. Theo had been thinking rapidly. She must not go
straight to the depot, for she must manage to outwit Jimmie;
guilty conscience already declared that he was suspicious.

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 167

She must cover her tracks so no one could trace her. "Drive
to .Bellas, Hess & Co., Broadway," she said in a low voice.

When she arrived at the place indicated, she dismissed the
man, saying it would be some time before she was ready to re-
turn. As he carried her valise to the door of the big clothing
establishment, Theo spoke in a low tone to another cab man :

"Double pay if you wait here for me five minutes."

"All right, Miss," touching his hat politely.

She changed carriages three or four times before reaching
the depot and believed that she had succeessfully covered her
tracks from any who were disposed to make inquiries

Finding that the next train out was going South, she pur-
chased a ticket to Washington and was soon speeding on her
journey — where? She did not know — she did not care. All
places were alike to her now — any place where she could hide in
safety was a welcome retreat. She reached Washington after
traveling nearly all night, and having had only a few moments
sleep the past forty-eight hours, she felt compelled for health's
sake to stop over and take a few hours rest.

Going to a fashionable hotel, she had an early breakfast and
went to her room ; and there in the quiet solitude of her chamber,
she untied the ribbons to look at Jack's flowers. Their sweet
fragrance had oppressed her during the whole journey, but she
felt that she could not look on them till alone. Now with pale
face, compressed lips and trembling hands, she tenderly lifted
the lovely carnations from the damp, moss-lined box, still delight-
fully fresh and fragrant. Her breath came in quick dry sobs
and she pressed one hand to her heart as she spied the little three-
cornered note clinging lovingly to the flowers. Jack had actually
written ! With a great lump in her throat which seemed about
to choke her into suffocation, she read and re-read Jack's penitent
plea for pardon and restoration to favor. Over and over again
she read the touching lines till every word seemed burned into
ner brain, men with a cry tnat seemed the wail of a soul
eternally damned, she fell half conscious across her bed, with the
flowers and. note crushed against her breaking heart. Oh, if she
could but die! Oh, if merciful unconsciousness would but come
to her aid ! But no ; to be keenly alive and painfully conscious
of the hell she had made for herself was to be her doom. In
bitterest agony she cried out :

168 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

"Too late, too late ! Oh God ! what have I done, what have I
done? Oh, to be safe at home with dear, darling Jack as in the
happy past! Poor boy, how he must have suffered to have
humbled himself like this — to have written so touchingly. But,
oh, God! it's too late, too late! He could never forgive me this
desperate step, even if I could forgive his insults — which I can't,"
she cried desperately. Words failed, but her brain kept busy.
Perhaps she was even now the subject of a big New York
' scandal, and Jack's name disgraced. She could easily imagine
how gossiping tongues would wag, and how "society" would
enjoy dissecting her character. She could not cry, but moaned
pitifully in her anguish, wringing her trembling hands till the
stones in her costly rings almost cut the dainty fingers.

She took Jack's gloves and tried to make them stand out as
if filled with his hands, then she tenderly pressed her face upon
them, closed her eyes and tried to imagine that Jack was with
her, and the past few hours only a hideous dream. Oh, it was
pitiful, but too late ! She had taken this desperate step and must
go on to the bitter end. And what was that to be?

After spending the whole day in a vain endeavor to sleep,
Theo decided to spend the night. She slept towards morning,
and far up into the day, but arose with a wretched headache, and
a feeling of terrible oppresion. She had refreshments brought
to her room and in the afternoon, finding that she could no longer
bear her own company, she made her way to the ladies' parlor
and soon made friends with a pretty little girl of four summers,
who was there with her mother from Lynchburg, Va. Little
Ella Evans was a most interesting child and Theo half uncon-
scionsly wondered if a little child of her own would have effected
her life — and Jack's. Ella presently brought her mother to "see
the pretty lady" and gave them a quaint introduction:

"Miss Feeo Gway, this is my muvver, this is Miss Feeo
Gway. I hope you'll be dood friends, cause I love you bofe,
amen." The childs mother smiled fondly on her little e:irl, then
turning with simple grace and dignity to Theo, she offered her
hand, saying kindly: "Mrs. Annie Evans, is my name, Miss
Gray," with a hurried glance over the neat black-robed figure
before her, and wondering that one so young and lovely should
be so sad.

"Mrs. Gray," corrected Theo, as she took the proffered
hand, and looked into the lady's bright face, her. own very pale.

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 169

"Dear me, excuse me, but you look so young to be married.
And you have recently lost some dear one?" gently touching the
girl's black dress. The tears welled up into Theo's dark eyes.
The voice was so kind and sympathetic, she could not resent the
familiar speech. Lost a loved one! Ah, had she not lost the
dearest and most loved ? She answered :

"Yes, oh, yes — my husband," almost choking with emo-
ttion.

"Oh, do forgive me — I would not have wounded you thus
for the world," cried Mrs. Evans in distress, clasping Theo's
hand in both her own. "It is my misfortune to have a dreadfully
unruly tongue, and I am always blundering and hurting some
one, and oh, so unintentionally. And you are all alone? Come
and sit down/' leading Theo to a wide comfortable settee away
from the chattering crowd.

"All alone, Mrs. Evans, — here and everywhere, so far as
relatives are concerned. I am an orphan, as well as a widow.
And oh, you don't know how thankful I am for the pleasure and
comfort of having some one to talk with," lifting Ella to a seat
between them.

"You poor child! And where are you going? — if I may ask
without being rude?" Theo blushed painfully. She had not yet
decided, but spoke up bravely :

"I am going to visit in the Carolinas — shall travel around a
good bit, I think, as I am fond of sight seeing — then I shall settle
down to work, if I can find employment."

"What is your work? — but I fear you will think me rude."

"Oh, no, not at all. Why, I have never done a moments
work in my life. I don't know what I can do — but I am healthy
and strong, and am sure I can learn almost anything that a
woman may do. The only thing I dread is seeking a place — and
I don't suppose an easy position will walk up and present itself,"
smiled Theo. Mrs." Evans looked at her earnestly and thought-
fully. Presently she said :

"I. too, am a widow, and support my mother, two children
and myself. Shall I tell you about my work? I, too, have seen
the day that I never thought of work, but everything was lost
when my dear husband died, and I learned to work as well as
pray."

"Yes, indeed, I shall be only too glad to hear how you have

170 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

managed. Providence, if there is such a thing, must have led me
to you."

Mrs. Evans smiled as she replied :

"Well, prepare yourself for a shock, for I am sure you have
been taught to despise my occupation and all who work at it. I
was of the same opinion once, but necessity knows no law, and
the lesson has been beneficial, for I learned to distinguish be-
tween the real and the false. I assure you I tried everything
else first, which held out hopes of an honest living, but was
finally driven by desperation into a — be prepared for the
shock" — laughingly — "cotton mill!" Theo opened her eyes in
surprise :

"I don't know anything about cotton mills — never saw
one in my life. But I am afraid I am a little prejudiced against
them from what I have read. However I will freely confess that
my prejudices will be easily removed, if you are a cotton mill
woman. I never imagined they would be — would be — at all de-
sirable acquaintances," she stammered.

"Of course dear, there are people employed in mills — as in
every other occupation — who are not at all nice or desirable
acquaintances. But it is unfair to judge the whole by tthe few.
The majority of mill people these days have clean lives and spot-
less characters, and many of them are well educated and refined.
I have learned this by actual experience. Marie Van Vorst and
other sensational writers from the North have cruelly slandered
and misrepresented Southern mill people. One who has read
'The Women Who Toil,' would feel justified in believing that mill
people are the very scum of the earth. But such is not the case
and I wish I could prove it to you, as you are a prejudiced Yankee
from Yankeydom," laughingly.

"I am sure since seeing you I should be easily convinced.
But please tell me more about your work." Theo was deeply in-
terested.

"Well, I believe wages is generally the first and greatest con-
sideration. I make about twelve dollars per week, on an average.
I don't have to mix with anyone, or have anything to do with
any one unless I wish. What I mean is this : a shop girl is com-
pelled to wait on just any one, black or white, red or brown, and
be as sweet as a peach to all, when half the time she feels dread-
fully humiliated and inclined to tears. Now, it is not that way

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 171

in a cotton mill. Every one has his or her own machines to
attend to, — his or her own separate work to do, and each stays in
his or her place ; personality and individuality are safe. I have
tried many things and like weaving best of all."

"Shop girls do not make so much either, do they?"

"No indeed. And do you know, some of them actually 'look
down on' mill girls who are just as nicely dressed, and better
mannered. Can you think of anything more ridiculous? Is it
not just as honorable to stand between the looms and weave the
cloth, as it is to stand behind the counter and measure it out to
every Tom, Dick and Harry who comes along? But this absurd
prejudice is fast giving way to common sense and justice, and
in many places mill people who are deserving, associate with the
very best people, and are welcome in social circles where true
worth is recognized."

"Let's take her home wif us, muvver?" chimed in little Ella.

"The very thing; yes, go with us if you will, and I can show
you more than I can tell you about my work," said Mrs. Evans
eagerly.

"I could — I'd be glad to stop with" you a day or two, if you
are sure you would like me to, and it will not inconvenience you
in any way," returned Theo gratefully. She could not bear the
thought of being alone, and looked a little doubtfully and very
wistfully into the face of her new found friend, inwardly aston-
ished at the wonderful progress they had made toward getting
acquainted.

CHAPTER VI

"The idea — why, nothing ever inconveniences me! I'm posi-
tively sure I shall not be subjected to such distress on your
account — you little slow-to-comprehend-and-believe. Now, I've
fallen in love with you on the spot and have thrown formalities
and other dignities to the winds, and if you don't come with me
and, — well, I'll be disappointed."

"Everybody minds my muvver, an' 'ou '11 have to do it too,"
declared Ella, kissing Theo's hand affectionately.

"I will be delighted, since I am sure that you really wish
me to."

"Now that's right. I like your honest confession that you
at first doubting my sincereity, though!" laughed Mrs. Evans,

172 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

"And do you feel sufficiently rested to go tonight as I intended?
If not I will wait until tomorrow," kindly.

"Oh, not for worlds would I have you change your plans on
my account. I shall be all right, now that I am no longer alone.
It's simply awful to have no one to talk with, — no company ex-
cept ones own thoughts — in a crowd, yet all alone." Theo shud-
dered, stooping to kiss little Ella.

Mrs. Evans looked thoughtfully at the beautiful girl, and
a shade of anxiety crept for a moment over her face. Had she
been too fast, she wondered? She knew absolutely nothing con-
cerning this fair sad girl; why was she so ready to believe in
and trust her? But then, she had learned by experience that
she could always safely stick to her first impressions — she never
had been fooled — and little Ella's intuition was simply perfect.

Theo's thoughts were something of the same, and looking up
suddenly with Ella's arms twined around her neck, she smiled
through unshed tears :

"It is strange, isn't it — the way we have progressed. I
never knew anything like it before. One would think we were
old friends."

"Well, it might be 'strange for some people — but for me —
my friends would tell you that it is just like me," laughed Mrs.
Evans "And I have learned that I may safely love and trust
all who win the confidence of Ella."

"But it is strange to me, and so refreshing to meet one
so unaffected, so genuinely kind and sympathetic, so delightfully
informal. It is one of the sweetest little experiences of my
life," continued Theo, warmly.

"I am a true Southerner," returned Mrs. Evans, proudly,
with a merry twinkle in her eyes and a playful drawing up of
her shoulders, as if that assertion made any other explanation
unnecessary. Then earnestly:

"Kind thoughts, kind words, kind looks, kind acts and warm,
hand shakes — these are a secondary means of grace when people
are in trouble and fighting unseen battles, says Dr. John Hall.
Anyhow, I know they are mighty cheap and I never expect to
be stingy in that line," and her face glowed with a light that
was indeed beautiful, and made Theo almost hold her breath
in awe, while into her heart came a strong inexpressable
longing — an infinite craving for an infinite stilling, and a con-

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 173

sciousness of unfathomed soul-depths, restless, vast and broad.

Mrs. Evans was little above medium height and rather
inclined to stoutness, but in her neat and inexpensive dark linen
coat suit which fitted her to perfection, one would have called
her figure perfect in its graceful outlines. Her eyes were an
honest blue and sparkled with good humor, her hair almost a
pure gold, and her fair cheeks glowed with the bloom of good
health and sweet temper. She seemed altogether at peace with
herself and all the world and in perfect harmony with life as she
found it.

As they were about to board the train for Lynchburg, Theo
caught sight of a man who had just arrived, and with a smoth-
ered exclamation of dismay she drew her veil down more
securely and made almost frantic haste to get inside the train.
Soon as they were seated, Theo peered cautionsly from the
window, and was relieved to see Clarence DuBose enter a
carriage and drive away. He had not seen or recognized her
she was sure, but oh, what a narrow escape! Why was he
there? Had he dared to follow her? And her cheeks blazed
with indignation. For a few moments she was almost overcome
with a terrible presentment of coming evil, and sank back in
her seat pale and trembling. She spoke in a low voice to Mrs.
Evans :

"Forgive me — I know you think I am acting like a crazy
thing — but I saw a gentleman out there whose attentions are
extremely distasteful to me — one who I had hoped never to see
again. I was a little afraid at first that he had followed me.
Have you ever met a man whom you did not trust and almost
loathed when he was out of sight, and yet when in his presence
felt that he possessed magnetic influence?"

"No, I don't think I ever have," was the thoughtful reply.
"But I can tell you one thing — he'd better let you alone while
you are in my care," and Mrs. Evans looked thoroughly com-
petent to protect her charge.

"Am sure I was foolishly alarmed. He is in the insurance
business and probably had work to do here. He could not
possibly know that I had left New York," returned Theo, bravely
trying to banish her fears as the train gave the signal to start,
and was soon in motion.

"Now dear, I will take this empty seat just in front of us,

174 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

and then you can have room to curl up and take a nap. You
look almost worn out. A nice little snooze will refresh you lots.
Try it," advised Mrs. Evans, as she changed her seat and placed
a pillow for Theo, who gratefully accepted it and leaned back
wearily, closing her eyes. Sleep! ah, could she ever sleep again?
The air seemed stifling and her heart was heavy and oppressed.
Oh, how she longed to find some quiet restful spot, where she
would feel at ease and be content — where she would no longer
be driven desperate by that restless, unsatisfied and inexpres-
sable longing for something beyond reach. Was she always
to have that terrible pain at her heart, she wondered? Was she
to go her whole life with that awful craving, hungering and
thirsting for she knew not what? Jack's glove and picture
still nestled on her heart and the box of carnations was carried
carefully in her hands, with the little, love note hidden inside.
She would keep these treasures as sacred memories of the past
— oh, inconsistency! — the past which she wished to forget.

At last, utterly exhausted, Theo fell into a troubled sleep
and was awakened only when Mrs. Evans gently stroked her
her hair and informed her that the next stop would be Lynch-
burg. They soon reached the depot and procuring a carriage,
Mrs. Evans gave her address to the driver, and they went
spinning through the deserted but beautifully lighted streets of
the city, soon arriving at a tiny four-roomed cottage which
seemed to Theo a very doll house. There were rows and rows
of houses just like this one, and Theo wondered how her friend
could be sure she had reached the right place.

A deep silvery toned clock struck the hour of three, as the
cabman deposited their valises on the tiny porch, and a hurried
movement inside told them that their presence was known.

"It is I, mother, open the door," called Mrs. Evans, as she
gently knocked at the door, carrying the sleeping Ella in her
arms.

A sweet-faced, gray-haired old lady, with a night cap on her
head and wearing a snowy grown, held a lamp above her head
and cackled merrily as they walked in. She welcomed them
cordially, holding Theo's hand for a full minute and looking
earnestly into the pale face and sorrowful eyes.

''Am so glad to have you with us my dear," said the old lady,
kissing her and releasing her reluctantly. "But I'm going to
drive you right off to bed and wait till daytime to get acquainted.

f'ROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 175

I do hope you will enjoy yourself with us in our humble home."
Then to her daughter : "Annie, let me have Ella. I'll undress
and put her to bed. Poor child — she's plum tuckered out; has
she been well, Annie?"

"Dear me, mother, did you ever know that child to be any-
thing else? I should think she has been well, and she certainly
has enjoyed the trip. But how is my little man?" walking over
to a little white cot and bending over a curly headed boy of
seven.

"He has been spry as a cricket, but has grieved some for
you and his little sister. I've been at my wits end to keep him
amused while not in school," replied the little old lady, merrily.

"Fse goin' to s'eep wif Miss Feeo," declared Ella, waking up
and comprehending that she was at home and being put to bed.

"No, no, little Ella must sleep with grandma — poor grandma
has been so lonely without her pet," soothed the woman, as Mrs.
Evans led Theo to the "front" room, dragging her friend's valise
after her.

"Now, dear, this is not a Fifth Avenue bed room, but it is
neat and clean and "comfy," and I hope you will look on it as your
own while with us."

Mrs. Evans did not speak apologetically, but in a manner
which plainly said, "I wouldn't exchange this room for anything
on Fifth Avenue!"

In all her life, Theo had never seen anything like this which
was evidently used for more than a mere bed room. Besides a
bed, large dresser and washstand, there was a nice organ, a
wide comfortable sofa, some parlors chairs and comfortably
cushioned rockers, a center table with lovely drawn-work cover
and best of all a neat hanging book case filled with standard
works. Enlarged portraits of friends and relatives and a few
other good pictures adorned the tastefully papered walls, and a
nice matting with several pretty rugs covered the floor. There
were vases of lovely flowers on the mantle, organ and center table,
and the whole pervaded by such a comfortable, peaceful, quiet
atmosphere, that Theo drew a deep sigh, again feeling that she
was lacking in something, again experiencing that hungry long-
ing for she knew not what, while in the secret depths of her
heart wailed a vain regret — "Oh, if Jack and I had lived like this,
we might have been happy!" she exclaimed aloud, in genuine
admiration and astonishment:

176 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

"Oh, what a lovely little nest! How tempting that great
snow white bed looks. How restful everything seems.'' Then
turning to her friend:

"How can I ever thank you for your sweet helpful friend-
ship?" and there were tears in the lovely eyes, making her far
more beautiful.

"My dear, Mrs. Gray, if I have been a source of help or
comfort to you, I am more than repaid. You certainly are not
enjoying it more than I," smiling into the tear dimmed eyes. "It
is a real pleasure to me to have you here, and if you can enjoy
the time you stay with us we will be more than glad. Now, you
spoke of that 'snow white bed.' I must tell you that the counter-
pane was woven on an old-fashioned hand loom, by my mother
when she was a young girl. Examine it at your leisure, and if
you think it worthy, give mother a word of praise for it, and
see how pleased she will be. And now I will leave you, hoping
that you will sleep so sweetly that you won't wake till ten o'clock.
Good night, and pleasant dreams."

When Theo opened here eyes that beautiful Friday morn-
ing, she heard the chirp of birds in the honeysuckles around the
porch and windows, and a sigh that was half pleasure, half pain
escaped her lips. Presently the silvery toned clock in the adjoin-
ing room chimed the hour of ten, and she sprang from the bed
in amazement. How soundly she had slept, how rested she felt.
And hungry — my, my ! She wondered what they would give her
for breakfast, and told herself that she would eat anything they
had, and try and be content. It wasn't reasonable to suppose
that these working people fared sumptiousuly, though they did
look robust and healthy.

On finding that she was up, little Ella was at last allowed
access to her room, and was told to bring the lady to breakfast
when she was ready.

That breakfast table was another surprise for Theo. The
cloth was snowy linen with pretty napkins to match and there
was a lovely centerpiece of drawn work on which was a glass
bowl of flowers beautifully arranged. The breakfast was just
an ordinary mill village meal — light bread and breakfast rolls,
rice, golden butter, ham, eggs on toast, home made preserves and
jelly, with coffee and rich cream. Everything was on the table
and ready to eat in true old-fashioned style, and Theo could not

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 177

restrain an expression of delight as she sat down. Mrs. Brown,
the old-fashioned mother, asked a blessing, which was a further
surprise to our heroine, having never heard anything of the kind
from one of her sex.

It is needless to say that Theo was not scant in her praises
of that really wonderful counterpane, or of the breakfast which
was the best in every respect that she had ever eaten. ' Mrs.
Brown had already milked the cow, much to Theo's regret, for
she was anxious to get acquainted with that member of the fam-
ily and to see that wonderful operation of "extracting" milk,
something she had read about and heard of, but had never seen.
She saw the performance that afternoon, and laughingly tried
to help, though deathly afraid. Mrs. Evans carried her guest to
several places of interest, but nothing so appealed to Theo as the
busy hum of the mill machinery, which she declared seemed
human. She was to leave on Sunday afternoon, and with her
friend was waiting at the depot for a belated train, when a hand-
somely dressed and distinguished looking gentleman came toward
them hat in hand, bowing and smiling:

"How glad I am :o meet you here, Mrs. Arlington." Theo
went deathly white and Mrs. Evans knew that this was the ob-
jectionable suitor, and that Theo was traveling under an
assumed name.

CHAPTER VII.

"Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide
. In the strife of truth with falsehood for the good or evil side ;
Some great cause, God's new Messiah offering each the bloom or
blight,
Puts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the
right.
And the choice goes by forever, 'twixt that darkness and that
light."

Theo gazed as if fascinated, toward the advancing man, and
her little white hand went out as if unconsciously to meet his
extended one. With a mighty effort she conquered the faintness
which was creeping over her, and smiled as she spoke :

"It is always the unexpected that happens. Who would
have thought of seeing you away down here?" Mrs. Evans' face

ITS FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

was a study. The indignant blood surged for a moment over
her fair face. She felt that she had been cruelly deceived and
shamefully treated, and drawing herself up proudly, she walked
with quiet dignity toward the door, leaving Theo without so
much as a word.

"Oh, excuse me for a moment, Mr. DuBoise, — you must
meet my friend." With an almost breaking heart Theo sprang
after her friend and laid an entreating hand upon her arm,
whispering beseechingly :

"Oh, do not forsake me— I have done no wrong — I swear
it. Help me to outwit and get away from this man for God's
sake!" Mrs. Evans looked for a moment into the pleading eyes,
and her tender heart went out in sympathy to her sister in dis-
tress. "Poor child," she thought, "poor child, she is unfortun-
ately weak, I fear, and I will not desert her if she needs me. How
do I know what trials or circumstances have placed her in this
seemingly false position? I will yield to the better and tender
promptings of my heart and love and help her if I may." Taking
Theo's hand and silently pressing it, Mrs. Evans turned back a
few steps and paused, saying gently :

"Your friend can come to me if he wishes to meet me."
Theo smiled gratefully and nodded an invitation to the man
across the room, and with quick steps he cleared the space be-
tween and stood before these two beautiful women, his hand-
some face aglow with genuine admiration. "Mr. DuBoise — my
friend Mrs. Evans, with whom I am stopping."

"I am certainly glad to meet any friend of Mrs. Arlington's,"
bowing low and impressively. Then to Theo with an exultant
ring in his tones :

"How very fortunate T am. Surely my lucky star must be
in the ascendency at last." Theo shivered as with cold and turn-
ing to Mrs. Evans she said meaningly :

"Do you suppose your friend really will pass through this
eveninr ? The train is dreadfully late and your mother will be
uneasy about us will she not?" Mrs. Evans took her cue and
answered :

"I am not sure that Inez will be on that train, and if you
are tired waiting we will go home. It is getting late and mother
will worry." DuBoise caught his breath uneasily. Was he going
to lose in the game when he was sure it was won? With his

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 179

most persuasive manner he turned to Mrs. Evans : "Please
do not go just yet — so soon after I have had the pleasure of
meeting you. I have been so lonely since leaving New York, that
it hurts to part with a friend as soon as I have found one."

Theo was not in the least, surprised that her friend should
yield to the personal magnetism of the man, nor that she smil-
ingly replied:

"You might call, perhaps, if you care to." Then to Theo:
"I think we will go now. I hate a place like this on Sunday."

"Oh, thank you. May I really call?" questioned DuBoise
eagerly. "What is your address, please?" Mrs. Evans hastily
wrote her address on the card which he extended, and said:

"Come when you wish. My home is in the mill village."

Theo blushed painfully and watched the handsome face for some
sign of trepidation; but he did not betray with so much as the
flicker of an eyelid, that he was astonished to learn that the lovely
Mrs. Arlington had friends among factory people, and could stoop
to visit them ! He only gallantly returned :

"Some of the very best people I have" ever known — even some
of my own best friends, are mill people. When may I have the
pleasure of calling — this evening about eight o'clock?''

"Oh, I suppose so — will that suit you, Mrs. Arlington?" in-
differently.

"Yes, I think so," replied Theo icily, wondering what move
to make next, and astonished beyond measure to find that
DuBoise could lie so glibly. She was sure he had no friends
among mill people, and confident that he would be ashamed for
New York society to know that he contemplated making a call in
a mill village. How she hated him at that moment! They
walked out to a carriage, DuBoise following and politely helping
them- in, then standing with bared head as they were driven
away, with devilish emotions in his breast. How lucky he had
been ! Beautiful Theo ! At last he was sure that he might
address her more boldly than in the past. She had never given
him the least sign that she had tender thoughts of him, but now,
she was in trouble; let liis ready sympathy win her confi-
dence— then all would be easy, he thought. Her husband was a
brute from whom she could easily get a divorce — then all would
be plain sailing — he, DuBoise, would marry her, and then, they
would "live happily ever after," he concluded.

180 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

For several moments silence reigned in that carriage, each
dreading to speak the first word, yet longing for the explanation
that was bound to come. At last Theo could bear it no longer,
and leaned toward her friend with lips white and drawn, her
voice hoarse with misery:

"I do not wonder that you are thinking terrible things of
me, dear Mrs. Evans, but I do sincerely assure you that I have not
wilfully done wrong. If you knew all you would say that I am
more sinned against than sinning. I am so glad I had already
written you everything before this happened. You will believe
me when you read the letter I left on the dresser for you. I have
wronged you though, in that I did not tell you all about myself,
before accepting your kind hospitality. Put me down at the
first hotel we pass and tell me good-bye forever. I won't blame
you — you've been better to me than I deserved, and I shall al-
ways remember you, and how you made me wish to be a better
woman — to be like you." Ere she paused Mrs. Evans' arms were
around her and she knew she was not forsaken.

"Put you down at a hotel; indeed, I shall do no such thing.
You are going straight home with me, meet that man bravely
and dare him to follow you further — if that is what he is doing,
and I confess it does seem so — but he has the appearance of a
perfect gentleman, and surely you can stop him if you try. But
what about your valise? You have a ticket for Chattanooga,
and your valise has already been checked there?"

"Put me down at the first hotel, you dearest of all friends.
I must catch that train if possible. If I fail, I shall go on the
next. I don't feel worthy to accept your kind hospitality after
this — after knowing that I have been followed by that scoundrel,
who is the whole cause of all my troubles." Mrs. Evans tried
to sooth and advise but all .to no avail. Theo was half wild :

"Oh, you are so goood to me — but please don't insist — I
can't go home with you. I simply will not meet that man. You
don't know him — I do, at least, and I am afraid of him," sobbed
Theo almost incoherently.

"My dear, why are you so afraid of him? I don't under-
stand. Why do you deem it necessary to 'outwit' the man, when
all that is needed is for you to bravely show your colors, and let
him know where you stand. He surely would not persecute you
with his attentions if he knew they were so distasteful. Come
with me, dear, and defy him if needs be. I will stand by you —

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 181

I will not forsake you — only be brave and do right — " But Theo
interrupted with a sharp cry :

"No, no. I don't want a word with him! My only safety
is away from him — I must get entirely away. Didn't you feel
his hypnotic influence, his great personal magnetism? He can
make one like and confide in him even when their better judgment
is thundering a mighty warning. I love you and thank you, but
I dare not come with you."

"I am sorry now that I gave- him our address — I don't know
why I did it — but it seemed almost rude not to," glancing back.
Then : "Oh, I believe he is following us ! Glance through the
curtains," in alarm.

"Oh, can it be possible?" cried Theo. "Yes, it is true — he
feared to risk losing me — he is following us !" terribly frightened.

"Dear little coward, I wish I could give you some of my
courage and spunk. I can't understand, but I will help you in
your own way, if you will not listen to reason. There is a hotel
just around a corner a few blocks from here. We might drive
fast and get far enough ahead for you to jump out and dash into
the hotel before he could turn the corner and see that we had
stopped. Shall we try?"

"Yes, oh, yes! Help me a little longer I pray — bless your
heart!"

"And will you write to me when you are settled — or before
— and let me know if you have successfully eluded him?" asked
Mrs. Evans, gently stroking the trembling fingers with her own
firm white one.

"I will, indeed I will ; though when you read the letter on
the dresser, you may never wish to hear from me," piteouslv.

"Mrs. Gray — Arlington, I am deeply interested in you and
shall be more than grieved if you forget to write. God forbid
that I should set myself up as your judge, or that I should con-
demn you. I don't know how you have been tried or how you
have fought your battles with this sinful world. But this I do
know — we are all sinners in the sight of God, and no one is
worthy to judge his or her neighbor. I shall not judge you."
Then she spoke to the driver :

"Drive fast as you possibly can from here to Hotel,"

and they made a quick dash around the corner, paused for a
memont in front of the hotel. Theo sprang out and ran hur-

182 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

riedly inside and the carriage had just dashed away, when the
one in pursuit turned the corner.

"Now, drive slowly," commanded Mrs. Evans. And the
driver pulled his horses down to a tseady walk.

As Theo sprang from the carriage she had said: "If you
have it to do, tell him I said I was going to Norfolk. The lie
will be mine — not yours."

Mrs. Evans shook her head disapprovingly and sank back
in her seat almost in tears over Theo's exasperating weakness.
Yet since seeing and speaking with DuBoise she could under-
stand how easily an unsuspecting and innocent girl might be
influenced by him. He was unusually handsome, had a fine figure,
which showed strength, and above all and through all there
radiated from his presence a personal magnetism that was cap-
tivating and fascinating. His hair and eyes were black as mid-
night, and his face clean shaven. She had never met a more
attractive man, though since being warned by Theo, felt that he
he was not a desirable acquaintance. She was only half sorry,
though, to think that she would soon see him again — would soon
have the chance to entertain him in her little front room, if he
^carecl to stop awhile.

As her carriage turned into the street on which she lived,
Mrs. Evans was relieved to see that the one following went
straight on. DuBoise was evidently satisfied that she had not
tried to mislead him, and would now wait patiently till the hour
to call.

It was just eight o'clock. Mrs. Evans had just finished read-
ing Theo's pitiful confession, half offended because of the en-
closed money. But old Mrs. Jones soothed her by saying that
the child meant well, and that they would accept the present in
the spirit it was given, and be thankful that they had "enter-
tained an angel unawares," and the old lady put the money away
"for hard times." Over and over again Mrs. Evans read Thso's
letter, keeping the contents sacredly to herself. Theo had
not spared herself, but humbly admitted that she had been silly,
though not wilfully sinful or a false wife; that if she could live
the past two years over again, she would be more discreet ; that
she had unconsciously drifted into a too close intimacy with Du-
Boise and never dreamed of danger till the night of "the ball."
That "Jack" had said some terrible things and insulted her be-
yond pardon ; that Gray was her own middle name, and her

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 1S3

mother's maiden name ; that she would never again claim the
name of Arlington, and that she hoped never to see "Jack"
again, for he despised her. The letter was long and full of soul
anguish, and ended with a beautiful tribute of love to Mrs. Evans
and *'the dear little mother" and begged them to not be offended
because of the enclosed token of her gratitude — that she was well
able to afford it ,etc. Theo made a clear breast of everything —
she kept nothing back except that Jack had sent her flowers and
a penitent note. Why should she lacerate her already bleeding
heart by that painful recital? — they had come too late and could
make no difference! She asked that her miserable tale of sor-
row be kept sacredly secret, and that she might be kindly re-
membered and not harshly condemned.

Mrs. Evans had once mingled in high society herself, and
felt that she knew just how matters stood between Theo and
r>n "Boise. She understood bow he had gradually and persistent-
ly sought to win the confidence of the unsuspecting Theo, and
had made a wreck of her happiness. Oh, it was pitiful — it was
awful! And such scoundrels were permitted to mingle with the
best society and allowed entrance into homes wmere there were
pure and innocent girls. Alas ! alas ! There were tears in her
beautiful eyes and her heart throbbed painfully as she opened
the door to DuBoise and allowed him to enter the little "front"
room.' She still held the letter in her hand, and though her
greeting was courteous the man felt as if a breeze from Iceland
had struck him. He glanced around, thinking this a "queer
parlor," and wondering why Theo was not present. Mrs. Evans
did not ask him to be seated, and remained standing herself as
she said:

"You will not care to be seated, I think, when I tell you
that my friend has gone," frigidly.

"Indeed!" in polite surprise. "Where to? Her departure
was rather sudden was it not?" trying to hide his impatience.

"Oh, no, she intended all the time to leave me this evening."

"I don't understand. Why — she knew I was to call — ," he
stammered.

"And wished to avoid you," added Mrs. Evans, bowing
slightly.

"But why should she wish to avoid one who is her friend?"

"Oh, I beg pardon — are you really her friend? Then I will
tell you something. She says she is being hounded by a scroun-

184 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

drel who has caused her great trouble and whose attentions are
odious and detestable," looking him squarely in the face, a faint
smile about her lips.

"Merciful heavens!" apparently shocked. "What can you
mean? Mrs. Arlington is a respected and very much admired
friend of mine and if any one is persecuting her in such a man-
ner— " Mrs. Evans threw out her hand in fine scorn as she
interrupted with much spirit :

"There's no use trying to 'whip the devil around the stump,'
for I know everything — you are the man ! I know your kind,
and will be pleased to bid you good-bye." DuBoise recoiled and
flushed angrily, though he spoke calmly:

"Madam, I think you forget that you invited me here, and
that common courtesy demands that you treat a guest kindly.
I am a gentleman, and have never said one word to Mrs. Arling-
ton unbecoming — "

"Oh, no, of course you haven't! Such a course would have
opened her eyes to her danger. You have employed a crafty,
subtle cunning, that she might not suspect your designs; now a
web of damning circumstantial evidence is woven about her and
the poor victim sees no hope except in flight. You have parted
that woman and her husband — you have blighted her- young life
forever. Can you wonder that she despises you, now that she
understands?" DuBoise grew white with mingled rage and dis-
appointment, though he spoke calmly :

"I am surprised to find that you who have such a sweet
and charitable appearance, should in reality be cruel and heart-
less. God knows I wouldn't harm a hair on the dear woman's
head. But if she were free from her fool of a husband, I would
lay my heart and hand at her feet," he declared boldly. "Will
you tell me where she has gone? I must find her and straighten
this horrid tangle. She must not think such terrible things of
one who is her best friend. Don't you know there is always two
sides to a question? You have cruelly misjudged me." Mrs.
Evans' slipper tapped the floor impatiently :

"She said she was going to Norfolk. But I beg you, for her
sake, for your own sake, for Heaven's sake, don't follow her!
She is desperate and might end her life ! If I have wronged or
misjudged you I am sorry. If you are a gentleman, prove it!"

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 185

CHAPTER VIII.

"How little it costs, if we give it a thought,

To make happy some heart each day.
Just one kind word or a tender smile

As we go on our daily way.
Perchance a look will suffice to clear

The cloud from a neighbor's face,
And the press of a hand in sympathy

A sorrowful tear efface.

"One walks in sunlight, another goes .

All wearily in the shade;
One treads a path that is fair and smooth

Another must pray for aid.
It costs so little, I wonder why

We give it so little thought;
A smile — kind words — a glance — a touch

What magic with them is wrought."

Theo did indeed catch that belated train, and when DuBoise
was making his call, she was far out on her way to Chattanooga,
reasonably sure that she had successfully eluded him, yet con-
sumed by a terrible fear and dread, and oppressed by a sense
of wrong doing.

With a sickening feeling of despair she wondered why she
had "run" from the man like a guilty thing. Why had she not
followed the advice of good Mrs. Evans, and dared him to follow
or persecute her with his unwelcome attentions? Why? why?
It was because she never wanted Jack to hear her name coupled
with that of DuBoise, and felt that he would know it if she spent
even a moment in his society. She wondered why it was that she
had enjoyed the man's society in the past, and now when it was
too late to make any difference, why she could not endure him.
She was finding the study of herself aggravatingly complicated.
She wondered if DuBoise had called on Mrs. Evans, and smiled
over the thought of the reception she must have given him. She
understood her impulsive friend well enough to feel sure that the
man would be made to see himself in a new light, and would
have given much to know how he appreciated the picture.

1S6 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

Perhaps Mrs. Evans would induce him to return to New
York. And what if he should see and tell Jack that she had
come South? She shuddered as she thought of Jacks' blind,
jealous rage, and how he would jump to terrible conclusions and
perhaps strike DuBoise dead at his feet. But no, DuBoise would
never try to bring about a reconciliation — she knew that. He
would be more likely to do everything in his power to avert it —
if a reconciliation were possible, which it wasn't, as the memory
of that last bitter quarrel rose before her mental vision. Her
plea for love and trust had been met with cruel and bitter denun-
ciations; insult had been added to injury — all was over forever
between her and Jack. Then sweet charity whispered:

"He repented — remember that note, and those flowers. His
love for you and your own actions, made him unreasonable.

In a crowd, yet all alone. Theo wrapped herself in such a
mantle of dignity and reserve during her trip South, that no one
ventured to address a word to her. Busy with her own miser-
able thoughts and wild conjectures, she paid no heed to those
around her, and as night shut from sight the beautiful scenery
through which she was passing, there was nothing to arrest her
thoughts and turn them into more pleasant channels.

As she neared Morristown, and heard the porter call out,
"Morristown, next station: change cars for Asheville, Spartan-
burg and Columbia." she wished she had her valise and could
make the change. She had often wished to see Asheville and
Biltmore, and had longed to visit Hot Springs. Well, perhaps,
she would later on. Anyway, she intended going tot Columbia
before she stopped, even if she was "going all around the elbow
to get to the thumb," as a glance at a little railroad map and time
table told her she was doing.

On arriving at Chattanooga, she went to one of the best
hotels, registered as Mrs. Dosia Gray, New York. She noticed
that several other guests were registered from New York, but
none whom she knew. She thought that if DuBoise should fol-
low and examine the book, he would not recognize her name, as
he did not know that she was traveling incognito. But this did
not keep her from using every precaution, and she had her meals.
dinner, supper and breakfast, served in her room. She would
not even go to the ladies' parlor, but asked a servant to bring
her something to read.

"What kind of reading do you like, Miss?" respectfully.

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 1S7

"Oh, anything to pass off time. Bring some books and
magazines — the first thing you come to — it doesn't matter,"
wearily. And the servant seeing that she was in trouble, sought
to bring something to comfort and cheer her, and placed in her
hands one of the greatest books published, "Apples of Gold in
Pictures of Silver." He also brought several nice magazines.

Theo — or Dosia — we must now call her, glanced at the book
impatiently. She saw that it was "religious," and was sure it was
as dry and uninteresting as the few sermons she had heard in
the past. But as she turned the leaves and saw poetry, she
paused, to read :

"How long we live, not years, but actions tell ;

The man lives twice who lives the first life well;
Make, then, while yet ye may, your God your friend,

Whom Christians worship, yet not comprehend.
The trust that's given, guard; and to yourself be just:

For live we how we can, yet die we must."

It is impossible to describe the wretched girl's emotion as
she re-read these lines which impressed her with a solmenity
never before felt in all her careless, selfish life. Like Felix of
old she trembled. Must she really die? — and away from home
and friends? And after death — what then? Could it really be
true that there was an eternity? With trembling fingers she
turned the leaves and — was it fate which led her' to this?

"Eternity! Where? it floats in the air;
Amid clamor or silence, it ever is there,
The question so solemn: Eternity! — where?"

"Eternity! Where? oh, Eternity! Where?

With redeemed ones in glory or friends in despair?
With one or the other: Eternity! Where?

"Eternity! Where? oh, Eternity! Where?.

Friend, sleep not, nor take in this world any share,
'Till you answer this question : Eternity ! Where ?

She rose from her chair and tottered to the bed, falling on
her face and cyring: "Oh God, if there be a God, take this bur-

18? FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOH

den from my heart and soul or I shall die." It was not the
prayer of a penitent, truly sorry for sin, but the frightened cry
of one who was afraid to die. Not a prayer to be cleansed from
the guilt of sin, but to be spared the punishment. For some time
the poor misguided girl lay across the bed sobbing as if her
heart would break, but at last her strong will asserted itself, and
she resolutely dried her eyes, bathed her face and picked up one
of the magazines. Again, as was her habit, she looked for the
bits of poetry:

"Has your heart a bitter sorrow?

Live it down.
Think about a glad tomorrow,

And live it down.
You will find it never pays, '
Just to sit wet eyed and gaze
On the grave of vanished days —

Live it down."

"Now, that's better — I like that — but there's no 'glad tomor-
row' for me. Strange that everything I happen to read is a
pointed sermon seemingly written on purpose for me! I can't
understand it all," petulantly.

Tuesday she went to Atlanta, spending the night there, and
Wednesday evening found her in Columbia, S. C. As she stepped
from the train and went with the thronging mass of humanity
into the waiting room, somehow she felt that this would be a
good place to stop for awhile.

Standing on the wide, extensive platform in front of the
depot, and looking across the railroad, she saw several large
cotton mills and pretty villages. Surely, that would be a safe
retreat. No one would think of looking for her in a mill village.
She smiled over the thought that she, a society favorite, should
be compelled to ask help from ignorant factory people! She
was absolutely sure she would never see another mill woman
who could be compared favorably with Mrs. Evans. If there
were any more of her type, they were few and far between. But
then, she would not be compelled to stay among them for long;
she would find other work pretty soon ; there were lots of things
she could learn, she thought. Ah, if the world was only full of
Mrs. Evanses! Why wasn't everyone good, kind and helpful?

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 189

Why had she never before realized the power of kindness ? Had
she ever in her life, tried to lift the burden from a fellow mortal?
No, she had been too busy seeking- pleasures. She had never
until now, realized the power of little things that cost nothing —
kind looks, kind words, kind acts and warm handshakes — worth
more than gold. Our heroine heaved a sigh from the depths of
her lonely heart, and tears glistened in her deep dark eyes, as
she tried to concentrate her thoughts in one direction. What
should she do next? Where should she go?

Captain Farrell, the grand old gentleman, who was police
and "train caller," was always on the alert watching for the
friendless and lonely that he might offer his services.

Hundreds of strangers, lone women and children traveling
without an escort or companion, can testify how this good man
has relieved their worry and anxiety, by "seeing after" them
with such tender and thoughtful solicitude.

He passed and re-passed Dosia as she stood on the plat-
form, as far removed from anyone as possible, and looking so
utterly miserable and forlorn. His kind face beamed with hearty
good will and there was just a suggestion of an interrogation in
his eye. He noticed that she was alone, travel stained and weary ;
that she was young, beautiful and in trouble. Her deep black
dress, sad face and pathetic brown eyes touched the sympathetic
chord in Capt. Farrell's bosom that never failed to respond to
the distressed. At last he paused near her and lifted his blue cap
deferentially, speaking in a kind fatherly way:

"You seem to be alone, Miss. Is there anything I can do
for you — any information I can give? If so, please command me.
It is my business to see after those who are alone or in need of my
services in any way, and I assure you it will also give me pleas-
ure if I can help you in anything, or serve you in any way."

Dosia raised her eyes in glad surprise. How sweet it was
to be spoken to so kindly where every one was a stranger and
such a thing not expected. As she looked into the kind and hon-
est face she felt instinctively that she might trust him. And oh,
how she longed for and needed a friend and friendly council.

"Thank you, — I am a stranger in a strange place, — and
alone. If you can spare the time I should like to ask your advice
and help in a certain matter — I mean I should like to have you
tell me how to proceed — " The old man tactfully interrupted.

"Are you in a hurry? No! Well you just wait till I call out

190 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

the next train which is due pretty soon, and then I shall be at
leisure for awhile and 'we can talk it over. Of course, I'll help
you. Now, don't worry, but go into the ladies' private waiting
room where you will find it more pleasant. There are lounges
and rockers in there for the tired, a nice toilet room with f uN
length mirrors for the proud," his eyes twinkling, "and I am
sure you can rest better in there."

"Thank you, so much. But where is the private room,"
smiling.

"Come, and I will show you."

As they started back into the waiting room, Dosia cast one
more lingering look toward the mill village and said: "I think
I would like work over there, if I could get it."

Capt. Farrell did not look surprised. He knew lots of ladies
with just as pretty hands, who were just as beautifully man-
nered and just as refined as this young girl, who worked in
mills, making good wages and saving money.

"Bless your life, there will be no trouble about getting em-
ployment," he returned briskly, "and I can certainly help you to
find the most desirable place. But you go in here now and rest
till I send for you," motioning to a closed door. Dosia paused,
thanked him prettily and asked :

"But you have so much to see after — won't you forget me?"

"Could anyone do that who had once seen you?" returned:
the old. Captain, gallantly, and Dosia entered the private wait-
ing room, feeling secure under the protection of this genuinely
good man.

CHAPTER IX.

The idle man never can bring to the mart
"The countless gold of a merry heart,
The rubies and pearls of a loving eye —
Nor the cunning hoard up in his treasury."

Some ladies from the mill village across the way came in
after awhile and took seats in the general waiting room, look-
ing around expectantly.

One was tall, fair and graceful, and her sweet face was lighted
by a pair of great , soulful blue eyes, soft, tender and spiritual,
making her look more divine than human. No "rat" had ever
made a nest 'neath the silken waves of her luxuriant light

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 191

brown hair, which was arranged becomingly and coiled artisti-
cally at the back of her small shapely head. Her dress was a
snow white linen with hand embroidered collar, cuffs and belt,
and her hat a chic little sailor of fine quality, trimmed with a
simple band and pretty buckle. More than one admiring glance
was directed toward her as she sat quietly and with unconscious
dignity, chatting in soft musical tones to her younger sister who
looked like a brown-eyed fairy bent on mischief.

"A pure white lilly — if I am any judge of character," said
the Rev. Phillip Harris to his friend Horace Stanford, not know-
ing that her name was Lilly — Lilly Bruner. Horace Stanford
smiled at the low earnest voice of the speaker, and replied :

"She does look so, certainly; but I happen to know that she
is a factory girl — and 'can anything good come out of Nazareth?"

The Reverend Harris turned to the flippant speaker, and
looked for a moment earnestly and yearningly into the hand-
some dissipated face :

"And yet, oh, Horace, you will agree, will you not, that
something good — divinely good — did come out of Nazareth?"

"Oh, yes, I'll agree, just to keep you from arguing the case
or preaching me a sermon," laughingly, and shrugging his shoul-
ders a bit uneasily. Then continuing: "But your 'white lilly's
companion takes my eye. What a trim, dainty little darling she
is. She wouldn't weigh over a hundred pounds I'm sure — just
a good armful. Just look at those beautiful, tender, twinkling
long-lashed brown eyes, will you? And those sweet rose-bud
lips were surely made to be kissed. Note the dimples in her
pretty cheeks and see how saucily she shakes back those rebel-
lious chestnut curls. Isn't she a daisy? — no she looks more like
a pansy with that blue dress — and Tansies for thoughts.' She's
my Pansy." A pained expression crept over the preacher's face
and he spoke impatiently:

"For shame, Horace! How can you discuss a young girl in
such fashion? I am painfully surprised at you."

"Pshaw! Phil, I only frankly expressed a few thoughts ex-
actly like some that are hidden beneath that clerical coat of yours.
What's the difference in 'Out of the abundance of the heart the
mouth speaketh,' and 'As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he?' —
two of your favorite texts. But here comes our car — let's catch
it. Mother has been looking for us some time, and is all im-
patience to see her ideal of manly perfection, the Rev. Phil.

192 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

Harris. Blessed if I don't believe she loves you more than she
does me," half seriously, as they passed out of the waiting room.

The young preacher glanced back longingly for a last look at
the girl in white, while Horace Stanford secretly determined to
manage some way, to meet the girl in blue. He was sure she
would be refreshingly sweet, and a delightful change, and would
give him a "nice time."

Lilly and Hazel Bruner had now been joined by a bright
manly boy of about fifteen, who was the very image of Hazel;
it was easy to see that they were brother and sisters, and that he
and Hazel were also chums.

Presently Captain Farrell came an and after shaking hands
all around and asking after their mother said:

"Well, girls, you certainly lost no time in getting over. I
expect, though, that Hazel is looking for a blue uniformed
soldier, judging from her bright expectant eyes," teasingly.
"But my 'Yankee' happens to be dressed in black and is a
woman."

"You old fraud!" exclaimed Hazel. "Don't you dare call me
over the 'phone again, or I'll prosecute you for 'mental anguish'."
The Captain laughed and continued:

"And she wants to get work over your way. Somehow I
am deeply interested in her, and if I can enlist your sympathies,
shall feel perfectly satisfied, knowing that she will be in good
hands."

"Who is she? Where is she? Old or young? Married or
single?" These and similar questions were hurled eagerly at
the Captain by Hazel and Tom, while Lilly waited patiently,
smiling indulgently over their impetuosity. When she could get
in a word she quietly said : .

"Bring her to us, Captain. We are all impatience, you see.
And you know so well that we shall be pleased to open our doors
and our hearts to any one whom you recommend."

"But I can't exactly recommend her, as I have never seen
her before. I do not believe she is a working woman. She looks
extremely sad, and it may be that some reverse of fortune now
compells her to work. When you have seen her I think you, too,
will be interested."

"Well, whether you can recommend her or not, if she is
alone and without friends in the city, that is sufficient. I only
hope she is not proud and high minded, and that she will like

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 193

us for ourselves. We are prepared to love her, if she will let us."

"Thank you, Lilly, and bless you. You are not one of the
King's Daughters' for nothing ; you are true to your colors." The
big fat good-natured colored woman who had charge of the pri-
vate waiting room was now passing through, and the Captain
stopped her:

"Aunt DinaTi, tell Mrs. Gray — the sad lady in black — that I
am ready for her," he said.

"Yes, sir; all right, sir," bobbing up and down in an old-
fashioned courtesy, and rolling her eyes comically, she dis-
appeared behind the door that no man dared to enter. Presently
she returned lugging a big valise and followed by our lovely
heroine, who had removed the travel stains, carefully re-arranged
her abundant hair and looked very much refreshecf.

Hazel's big eyes opened wide and Tom gave an involuntary
exclamation as the graceful figure came forward, looking neither
to the right nor left, apparently oblivious or indifferent to her
surroundings, her great pathetic brown eyes raised trustfully to
Captain Farrell as he hastened forward to meet her saying in
low tones :

"I have found some delightful friends for you — the very
best girls I know, I believe — and they are mill girls. I hope you
will like them and I am sure you will."

"Geewhiz ! There go your laurels Hazel. She'll take the cake
in every voting contest, and be crowned Queen of Love and
Beauty every clip," declared Tom in a low voice to his sister.
Hazel gave him a warning nudge with her elbow and whispered
back :

"My! Isn't she too perfectly lovely for any thing?" showing
that she was not at all jealous or envious.

As a rule, the best class of mill people have the happy
faculty of making one feel at ease, and Dosia's lonely heart went
out to these sweet unaffected girls as they greeted her so cordially
and welcomed her heartily and sincerely. Lilly's warm, firm
hand clasp and the light in her blue eyes as she said sweetly :

"I am so glad to meet and welcome you, Mrs. Gray, and hope
you will be so delighted with our part of the city, that you will
decide to cast your lot with us," was enough to win a heart that
was not already thirsting for love and friendship. Hazel — im-
pulsive, passionate and loving — caring nothing for "cold pro-
prieties" and "freezing dignities," kissed her affectionately as

194 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

if she had been a dear friend and exclaimed :

"Bless your dear heart, I hope you will love me a little,"
hardly conscious of what she was doing or saying.

''Me too," stammered Tom bashfully as he was presented,
and then they all laughed heartily at his expense.

"I'm sure it will be a delightfully easy task," smiled Dosia,
speaking to both Hazel and Tom, her face beaming with grati-
tude, through a trace of sadness still lurking in the deep dark
eyes. Captain Farrell then spoke to her:

"It was certainly a ruling of Providence that these dear
girls should be resting today and that I should know about it."

"Bless your life, Mrs. Gray, he knows absolutely every-
thing," declared Hazel in a desparing stage whisper.

"We went shopping this afternoon and he saw us," ex-
plained Lilly smilingly, and shaking her head reprovingly at
Hazel.

"And he had you to stop for me?" inquired Dosia, looking
from one to the other.

"No — we had been at home some little time," said Lilly.
"He 'phoned to us to come and capture a Yankee," declared the
irrepressible Hazel, with a grimace.

"Well, you have certainly done so," returned. Dosia softly,
wondering how the man knew she was a Yankee.

"And you will go with us?" asked Lilly eagerly.

"Gladly, if I may," replied Dosia, whereupon Master Tom
hurriedly gathered up her valise and started for the car line, as
if afraid she would change her mind. Our heroine turned to
Capt. Farrell, and with tear dimmed eyes thanked him from the
depths of a grateful heart for his matchless kindness, and added :

"Experience has taught me many things during the past
few days, but I think that the most valuable lesson I have
learned, is the power of genuine kindness."

"Why, child, it has been a great pleasure — the little I have
done for you, and if at any time I can serve you further, come to
me as r I were your own father." As he walked out to the car
line with the three beautiful girls, nearly every eye followed
them admiringly.

A week later, Dosia wrote the following letter, which will
explain how she was getting along:
"Dear Mrs. Evans :

"According to your request and my promise and believing

"from ball room TO WEAVE ROOM 195

that you really wish to hear from me, I am giving myself the
pleasure of writing to you. I am in Columbia, S. C, and actually

learning to weave! Yes; learning to weave in the Cotton

Mills. But first, let me assure you that I have seen no more of
Mr. DuBoise and hope I never shall. If you have forgiven my
deception, and weakness, please let me know how you managed
him.

"Have often wished that I had taken your advise instead
of running like a coward. But it has always been my misfortune
that regrets come too late to make amends. I am trying to face
the inevitable — trying hard to forget the past and make the best
of things as they come. But oh, there's a bitter pain and hope-
less longing in my heart that causes me many wakeful hours and
tear-wet pillows.

"I am boarding with the widow Bruner, one of the most
lovable old ladies imaginable, who treats me as kindly as if I
were her own daughter. She has two girls. Lilly, aged twenty,
and Hazel, seventeen ; also a son, Tom, about fifteen.

"I never saw a happier family, though I am sure two sisters
were never more unlike than Lilly and Hazel. Tom is the very
imp of mischief, and with the ever ready help of Hazel, keeps
things lively.

"Lilly is like you without your impulsiveness, (which is
your chief charm — your greatest charm) and I can't imagine her
calm serenity being disturbed under the most trying circum-
stances. Here are a few samples of her sayings :

" 'Every chastisement is gracious ; it is sent that you may be
a partaker of God's holiness.' 'Nothing takes place by chance;
there is a design worthy of a God in every operation or permis-
sion.' 'Who sends this trouble? My good and gracious God;
let this silence every murmur.' I never heard of such a girl.
She sees the hand of God in everything, and is so good and
saintly that I am half afraid of her, though I love and admire
her.

"Hazel is every whit human, and is just a darling. Oh, all
Southern people have warm hearts and I love all I have met. I
am fast turning rebel myself, and am delighted with this beau-
tiful Southland. And our neighbors — why, this whole mill vil-
lage seems one big family, and I think there are comparatively
few 'black sheep' in the flock. I am so glad that my lucky star
led me to you, and introduced me into this simple, honest mode

196 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

of living. I have tried my very best to see where our Northern
writers get their sensational stuff concerning these people, and
have decided it must be hatched from an imaginative and preju-
diced brain.

"Everything is nice and cosy here. Mrs. Bruner's front
yard is all abloom with pretty flowers tastefully and artistically
grouped and bedded, and the back yard is aflame with georgeous
hollyhocks and sunflowers, and the same sweet homey, 'comfy'
atmosphere that pervaded your home has settled around this.

"Now about my — work — (That sounds so funny) I have
had to 'get out' after two days in the mill! My hands were
terribly swollen this morning, and I can't begin to express how
my feet ached last night. Mrs. Bruner says my slippers are too
high-heeled and that it will ruin my health to stand in such
things. And what do you think? She went shopping early this
morning, and actually bought and presented me with a pair of
broad, flat, funny looking low-heeled slippers, a number too
large ! I never before had a present that I appreciated more, be-
cause I knew the motive back of it. Oh, she's a dear. I put the
slippers right on — I have them on now, — also one of that dear
little woman's wrappers which she insisted would be so much
more comfortable 'to loll around in,' and if it were not for the
eternal ache in my heart, I could scream with laughter to think
how shocked New York society would be to see me. Mrs.
Bruner says it's a matter of health as well as comfort, so while
I am 'in Rome I shall do as Rome does.'

"Hazel is teaching me to weave, and says I am learning
unusually fast. She told the overseer that I would be ready for
a set of looms next week, and it frightened me so that I felt my
hair rising.

"Now, dear, please don't scold me for anything when you
write — if you really do write. I haven't felt called upon to air
my troubles to these good people, who fully believe me to be what
I seem, a widow in reality, and in need of work. I have spent
fifty dollars for a trunk and some necessary clothing, and paid
my board a month in advance, and no one suspects that I have
anything left. I'm sure it would be safe to keep it here, but I
guess I'll put it in the bank as soon as I can.

"Give my love to your dear mother and kiss those sweet
children for me. If you will favor me with an answer to this I
shall indeed be grateful, and if you care to know how I am, I

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 197

shall be delighted to write you often as you like. Anxiously and
hopefully awaiting a reply, I am your sincere and grateful
friend, THEODOSIA."

CHAPTER X

"Into life's bitter cup true friendships drops
Balsamic sweets to overpower the gall —
True friends, like ivy and the wall it props
Both stand together or together fall."

Dosia returned to her work next day and stuck to it bravely,
finding that to keep busy was the best antidote for a burdened
and aching heart. She received an immediate answer from Mrs.
Evans, written in that good woman's own peculiarly fascinating
and inimitable style:

"Mrs. Dosia Gray: ,

"You dear little cowardly, hum-buggy 'widow !' you have no
idea — neither can I pump it into your provoking little head —
how very glad I was to hear from you, and so favorably. If I
could have gotten hold of you soon as I had digested the con-
tents of the letter you left on the dresser, — well — to say the
least, I would have choked you, you precious innocent. But
mother says we will accept your present in the same sweet spirit
in which you gave it, and be thankful — but I can't help wishing
you hadn't done that; — forgive my independence.

"I am so glad you are with such a desirable family. I truly
believe the Lord has given 'His angels charge concerning thee,'
and that you will not get seriously bumped and bruised as Fate
hurls you around over rough places ; that all things will yet be
satisfactorily explained and your domestic machinery readjusted
so perfectly that it will run smoothly as my looms and never
have another 'breakout.' And dear, when that time comes, do
let me know, so that I can have the satisfaction of calling to you
across space and yelling, 'I told you so !'

"Now about DuBoise. I had just finished reading your
touching letter when he arrived, and was in just the right mood
to hurl the fact of your ignomnious flight at his defenseless head,
tragically declaring that you had fled from a scoundrel who was
pursuing you with unwelcome attentions. My! you ought to
have seen how shocked he was and heard how he longed to punch

198 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

the head of the villain. How he longed to fly to your presence,
declaring that no one, should persecute a lady friend of his in
such a fashion and go unpunished.

"Oh, we had quite a little spat I assure you. I cut, slashed
and stabbed in a round-about way, while he dodged this way and
that, behind a shield of assumed innocence. Finally when I
could restrain myself no longer, I pointed my index finger at him
accusingly and exploded the bomb, 'Thou art the man!'

"At first he was terribly angry and grew at least three
inches taller, as he glared at me with righteous indignation. I
glared back with ten per cent, interest, till his eyes dropped in
confusion, then tried to finish him by storming: 'If you are a
gentleman, prove it!' which he at once tried to do by word of
mouth, and almost made me believe black was white, so per-
suasive was his eloquence. Dear, that man is a wonder! He
ought to be added to 'the seven wonders of the world.'

"Well, I withstood his eloquence and was firm (outwardly)
as the 'Rock of Gibralter,' (whatever that may be) and at last
succeeded in making him understand that actions, not words,
were the only acceptable proofs — the only recognized fruits of
repentence. He at last promised faithfully to return to New
York and leave you unmolested, though he declared he only
wanted to see you and try and straighten out things and offer
you his pure and true friendship. He said he would try in the
future to atone for the past. I assured him that I would hear
from you, and that I would tell you about how he felt. I asked
him if he thought he could manage to bring about a reconcila-
tion between you and your husband and he answered that he
should not interfere in any way whatever; that your husband
was a jealous brute and made your life miserable, and that you
would be happied anywhere under any circumstances than with
your husband. He declared that no one should know from him
that he had seen you.

"I was faithless enough to believe that he would still try to
find you, but I received a letter from him yesterday postmarked
New York, so of course he is there. The letter is just such a
one as this 'ladykiller' would be supposed to write, beautifully
worded and eloquent, and a touching tribute to my true friend-
ship for you, and to other characteristics which he seems to
think I possess, and declaring himself to be unworthy the least
thought of such a pure Christian woman,' yet pleading to be

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 199

kindly remembered as one who earnestly longed to reach and live
up to my high standard! After thoroughly digesting the sweet
morsel, I went to mother and asked her to examine my shoulder
blades and see if I had sprouted wings !

"No, clear, I shall never scold you for anything. I love you
too well : and besides, I am satisfied that my prayers for your
future welfare, will be answered in God's own good time. I am
delighted to know that you actually appreciate our Southern mill
people, and hope you will some day feel inspired to write and
publish your impressions. So many Northerners have slandered
us, that should one take up the cudgel (pen) in our defense, I'd
wave my old bonnet till the strings pulled off, and yell 'Hurrah !'
till I became hoarse. Whatever else you do or leave undone,
keep a diary. You will find it useful as well as interesting in
the future.

"Mother and the children join in sending love and kisses to
you. And of course I wish to hear from you — you little goose!
Write as often as you can, at least once a week, and always ex-
pect an immediate answer, from your true and loving friend,

"ANNIE EVANS."

Time slipped rapidly away, and Dosia was soon running
six looms, with Hazel for a side weaver, thanks to a kind and
obliging overseer, and working as if her life depended on it.
She had won the' respect and admiration of all and the love of
many.

Mrs. Brunei* and Lilly were grieved to learn that she was
not a Christian ; but she never pained them by speaking lightly
or skeptically about religion, but could seldom be induced to
accompany them to church. They felt instinctively that the
young widow had gone through some severe trial besides losing
her husband — some sorrow that had shadowed and embittered
her whole life, and they pitied instead of condemning her,
praying often in secret for the salvation of her soul.

Day by day the sad brown eyes took on a more wistful
expression and occasionally her sweet face became deathly pale,
while a look of terror and dread would sweep over her counte-
nance. Mrs. Brunei* watched her with all a mother's tender
solicitude, longing to have the poor girl's confidence, but Dosia's
reserve when questioned about herself, held the good woman
aloof.

Mrs. Evans' letters were a great comfort and consolation

200 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

and she found much pleasure in keeping a faithful diary —
a flood gate through which she often gave expression to the
pain and anguish pent up in her soul. The 'eternal ache' in
her heart seemed to grow, in spite of her brave efforts to be
resigned to her lot — the hell which she began to realize she
had made for herself, though she would have died ten thou-
sand deaths before she would have asked Jack to forgive her.

The box of withered carnations and the precious love let-
ter were tenderly handled and caressed every night, and Jack's
glove and picture often nestled on her heart or lay against her
cheek on a pillow wet with tears. She often went shopping on
Saturday afternoons with Lilly and Hazel, always stopping
for a word with good old Captain Farrell, if she passed the
depot at a time when he was not busy.

The Rev. Philip Harris had held a protracted meeting in
the Baptist church on the mill village and was a frequent visitor
at Mrs. Bruner's, where a tall, stately girl with serious blue
eyes welcomed him with blushing cheeks. Horace Stanford,
too, had tactfully managed to get an introduction to Hazel, and
was paying her very marked attentions, causing Mrs. Bruner
some little uneasiness, though she had perfect confidence in
her saucy young daughter's ability to fight her own battles.
The preacher also, being thoroughly acquainted with the young
man's character, had remonstrated with him and seriously
threatened to unmask him, if he showed the least inclination
to flirt with the innocent girl.

It was seldom that Dosia could be induced to stay in the
parlor for half an hour when the girls had company, but occa-
sionally they succeeded in getting her to play the organ and
sing, and at such times she was always complimented in the
highest terms — by profound and breathless silence, tearful
eyes and tremulous lips. She was an accomplished musician
and trouble had given her voice a touching pathos that none
could withstand.

One night late in September, the Rev. Mr. Harriss and
Lillie were seated on the porch just outside the parlor window,
while Hazel and Dosia were practicing some new music. Sud-
denly Hazel threw the new music aside and commenced to play
and sing the sad old song that Dosia had sung for Jack that
miserable morning:

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM. 201

"I'm longing so sadly I'm longing

For the flowers that have blossomed and fled —
For the hopes that around me were thronging —

But alas! all are withered and dead.
Beauties I thought ne'er would perish

One by one vanish away.
There's nothing on earth that we cherish

That's lovely and true that will stay.
Flitting, flitting away —

All that we cherish most dear
There's nothing on earth that will stay —

The roses must die with the year."
She sang no further for Dosia cried out in pain:

"Oh, Hazel, not that, not that! I can't bear it!" and her
face was quivering with anguish and her hands pressed con-
vulsively to her heart. Hazel was deeply penitent and won-
dered why she had been so thoughtless in the presence of one
so recently and sadly bereaved.

The preacher and Lillie had heard and seen it all through
the open window. He had been studying our heroine for two
months, and with his keen perception and intuition had con-
cluded that she was in deep trouble and stumbling along in the
dark blindly for comfort and help, but seeking it in the wrong
direction.

He and Lilly were both deeply interested in the sweet-
faced sad-eyed little widow, and tried in gentle tactful ways
to lead her to the light. Just now the preacher had an in-
spiration, and taking Lilly's hand whispered it to her. Then
with a silent prayer to God, asking His help and blessing, the
preacher waited a few moments till Dosia had regained her
self control then called to her through the open window, and
asked her if she would sing and play "Abide With Me," de-
claring it to be his favorite and the sweetest song he had ever
heard.

She seated herself at the organ and turned to the grand
old hymn and sang:

"Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide,

The darkness deepens — Lord with me abide!
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!"

202 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

The sweet lips trembled, the dark eyes fifilled with tears
and the voice broke in a pitiful, prayerful wail of entreaty —
"Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!" Hazel sobbed out-
right "Oh, what beautiful words!" exclaimed Dosia, "you
and Lilly sing — I'll play for you, please, please, Mr. Harriss,"
eagerly, and the minister stepped through the 1owt window
with Lilly at his side and together they sang the remainder of
the beautiful song. When it was finished Dosia rose hurriedly
and went to the open window and gazed at the twinkling stars.
Hazel fled from the room. Lilly looked wistfully after her
sister and softly began to sing:

"What a friend we have in Jesus." The minister joined
in with his rich baritone and Mrs. Bruner in the next room,
thought it the sweetest and most heavenly music she had ever
heard. Dosia almost held her breath, so eager was she to catch
every word. Soon after the song was finished, she came from
the window and gave each of these friends a cold, trembling
hand, saying brokenly:

"I understand, and thank you. I do want to be a Christian
— I want the Lord to abide with me — I want Jesus to be my
friend; pray for me. And she went swiftly from the room
with the preacher's "Thank God! God bless you my sister,"
ringing in her ears.

On going upstairs to her room, she found Hazel crouched
on the top landing, shaking with emotion. Silently she seated
herself by the young girl and placed a sympathetic arm around
her. Presently Hazel broke out impatiently:

"Whatever is the matter with us? I've heard those old
songs time and again without being touched, but tonight I feel
miserable — just as if I had no friend on earth or in heaven!"
in a little jerky voice.

"Oh, Hazel think! you have the dearest little mother, a
sweet and loving sister and brother. I have no one — no one to
love me or care what becomes of me; I am indeed alone, — all
alone!" brokenly.

"My dear child, how can you say that?" asked Mrs.
Bruner as she came out of Tom's room and seated herself by
them. "We all love you dearly — my heart goes out to you as
to my own girls — I care, we all care, oh, Dosia!" in a hurt tone.
Dosia was deeply touched and laid her little hand on the brown,
hardened one :

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 203

"Dear Mrs. Brunei*, forgive me if I have seemed ungrate-
ful; you have indeed been a mother to me, but tonight I am
so miserable that even you cannot comfort me."

"'You poor child! I have known for some time that you
were in trouble and needed a mother's loving counsel; confide
in me, dear, and let me help you. Trust me."

"I have never told you anything about myself, only that
I came from New York and had lost my husband the past May.
Yet you have been content to ask no questions and have trusted
and loved me. I ought to tell you more, but I cannot — and it
will be best for me to get lodgings some where else very soon,"
bravely but tearfully. How could she bear to leave these good
friends? Oh, it was hard, she thought, yet, she must not stay.

"Oh, you shall not go!" cried Hazel, "what have we done
to you? Mama, don't let her leave us." Mrs. Brunei* hesi-
tated, then whispered in Dosia's ear:

"You silly child, do you think I do not know? You need
never tell me a word you wish to keep secret — we love you for
what you are — for your own self. You must stay with us,
child. I will be a mother to you in the coming trial." Dosia
threw her arms around the good woman's neck and sobbed :

"Oh, do you mean it? You know — and will stand by me —
will care for me in my hour of need? How good you are! and
I don't deserve it."

"Dear, what are friends for? what are they worth if they
do not stand true to each other in rain or shine? Why, to
know that you are in trouble and need me draws me closer to
you with bands of love."

"Oh, how blind to your goodness I have been! I have felt
for some time that I ought to tell you all about myself and how
I came to leave New York, but I have not the moral courage,
and felt that I must leave you. But believe me, I may have
been very foolish and indiscreet, but have never been guilty of
anything — " she paused in confusion.

"Say no more, Mrs. Gray — nothing could change our love
for you," declared Mrs. Bruner warmly. "No indeed," added
Hazel.

"Bless you both ! How grateful I am — how very fortunate
I have been. Surely a kind Providence must have directed my
footsteps and led me to you ! And I thought I must leave you.
Oh, Mrs. Brunei*, ever since you read the beautiful story of

204 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

Ruth some time ago, my heart has been crying out to you in
her words, 'Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from fol-
lowing after thee'."

"Finish the verse dear — speaking from your heart," softly
urged Mrs. Bruner, "and say: 'and thy God, shall be my God'."

"I wish I could — I am trying," humbly, then abruptly she
sprang up, "Good night, dear friends, till tomorrow." And
she went hurriedly to her room, leaving mother and daughter
seated on the steps.

CHAPTER XI

"We only feel the pain His chastenings give;
The sharp incisions only can we see.
And He alone, by whom we move and live,
He sees the hidden glory that shall be."

In the privacy of her own room, Dosia knelt at the open
window, and gazed as if entranced at the beautiful full moon
now high in the heavens and bathing the earth in glorious,
silvery radiance. Unconsciously she quoted a verse of scripture
she had heard Mrs. Bruner read :

"The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament
showeth His handiwork." Yes, there really was a God, and
it must be as Mrs. Evans declared — he was having the angels
to guard her. How good Mrs. Bruner was to want to keep
and care for her! What would Jack do and say if he knew? —
and she might die — what then? — and perhaps leave a mother-
less little child to — oh. she could not bear to think! What must
she do? Again there rang in her ears that insult that was be-
yond pardon: "God! with out a mighty reformation in your
character, you should never have charge of a child of mine."
But hadn't she reformed? When she had left Jack in anger,
she had determined to say good bye to the past — to forget it
all and live free as the birds. Why was it that she had felt no
inclination for "society?" How was it that she now hated
the things she once loved? When had she awakened to a reali-
zation of the dangerous path she was treading? Was it when
in the solitude of that Washington hotel she had read Jack's
penitent and loving note? Or was it when she had found that
DuBoise had followed her? She did not know — she only knew

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 205

that she was miserable oh, so miserable, in spite of these good
and kind friends.

Did she wish to return to Jack? If everything turned
out well — if she should survive the coming ordeal and the little
child should live, would it not be her plain, positive and im-
perative duty to see that it had its rights as Jack's child? But
no, ten thousand times no! Jack should never know — she
would never forgive him the terrible insults he had heaped
upon her, no never ! Poor girl ! when love began to plead, she
always called pride to the rescue.

"Whatever can be the matter with me? I don't want to
go back to New York — I could never forgive Jack and he
could never forgive me for running away and bringing disgrace
to his name. No * but what is it that so fills my soul with un-
utterable longing? Am I, thirsting after 'righteousness'?
Then why am I not 'filled?' as the scriptures promises. Poor
misguided girl. How could peace and rest come to one whose
heart was bitter and unforgiving? She had yet to learn that
God will "forgive our trespasses as (just like) we forgive
those who trespass against us."

She opened her diary and wrote till far into the night, and
it was early morning ere the great sad brown eyes were closed
in sleep.

Next day was Sunday. The girls and Tom went to church,
but Mrs. Mrs. Brunei* was a little indisposed, and remained at
home with Dosia, and they were very happy together, for all
Dosia's haughty reserve was gone.

She even showed Jack's picture to the good woman, who
declared positively she had never looked upon a more hand-
some face, and did not wonder that Dosia should be heart
broken, for he must have been a noble man with those stead-
fast eyes and firm lips.

Dosia was almost ready to lay bare every secret of her
heart, when they were interrupted by the return of the girls
and Tom.

Tom, boy like, came to the dining room at once and took
a seat near Dosia, who was watching Mrs. Bruner with in-
terest as she put dinner on the table, chatting cheerfully all
the while.

"Mama, Hazel joined the church today," remarked Tom.

"Did she?" eagerly. "Well, I thought she would, from a

206 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

talk we had last night. I am sure she has been genuinely con-,
verted. I am so glad she is satisfied — she was a little doubtful
last night," and there was a happy smile on the mother's face
far more eloquent than words. After a few moments silence
Tom changed the subject:

"Mama, have you any stamps on hand? I didn't know I
was out — and I have some letters to mail," taking a bunch of
letters from his pocket with an air of importance.

"I think I have a few. I declare, Tom, you will soon have
to buy a type writer and get a corresponding secretary — won't
you?" laughing. "Why, dear," turning to Dosia, "he gets more
mail than all of us put together. He quit cigarettes ,so he
would have money for stamps, and mercy me! there's no tell-
ing how much his stationery costs."

Dosia smiled appreciatively and Tom became confidential:

"I've got two more pretty girls to add to my collection,"
taking two little penny photos from his pocket and holding
them out to Dosia.

"Those are pretty, certainly," she said, "whose are they
Tom?"

"Oh, now, I mustn't tell that," laughed Tom teasingly.

"You spoke of a collection; how many have you?"

"Oh, about a quart."

"Mercy! a quart of those little stamp photographs?"

"He's been collecting them nearly a year and gets them
nearly every day, I think," chimed in Mrs. Bruner. "Isn't he
terrible to be so young? Sometimes I catch him with them
spread all over the bed, and he looking at them so earnestly,
that I wonder if he is selecting a future daughter-in-law for
me."

"You see, Mrs. Gray, — it's this way; there's a page for
young folks in a little magazine I take, and through that, we
get acquainted by mail, exchange pictures and correspond, and
do other things for pleasure and mutual benefit. Some want
scenery, and by exchanging kodak pictures, we learn a lot
about places we have never seen."

"But you make a specialty of pretty faces?"

"Oh, I'm not the only kid that's doing the same. But
honest, now, the snap shot I took of you and Hazel last July
is the prettiest I have seen. A fellow in Ohio is making a col-

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 207

lection of girls who have brown hair and eyes. He offers a
prize for the prettiest photo — or for a photo of the prettiest
girl, and I've been tempted to send him yours and Hazel's."

"Oh, no Tom, please don't do that. We should not want
a stranger to have our pictures," objected Dosia. Tom raised
a pair of half frightened eyes: "Why not? It could do no
harm — and that ten dollar prize would be mine. You'd surely
win it," in confusion.

"But you musn't think of such a thing, Tom," said his
mother.

"But, mama,' please tell me — would there be anything
wrong or improper about it?" asked the boy.

"Why, my son, there are lots of girls who couldn't bear
for a likeness of theirs to be in the hands of a stranger. And
then the fellow might be up to some mischief or villiany.
Innocent girls are often drugged, kidnapped and forcibly con-
fined in dreadful dens of vice for no other reason than that
they are pretty and attractive." Tom's face grew pale and he
gazed thoughtfully out at the window. Dosia, wishing to
chase the cloud from his brow said softly;

"I am not unmindful of the compliment you have paid
me Tom, and I hope you don't think me silly."

"I couldn't think any thing like that of you, Mrs. Gray.
But I am sure James Alexander is a boy like myself, and is
making the collection for fun and the interest of it."

"Strange that only brown hair and eyes appeal to him,"
musingly.

"Yes, but he explained that by saying his mother had
brown eyes and hair — that she had been dead several years,
and was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. That's
why he is interested in no other colors."

Lilly and Hazel now came in with their arms around each
other making a lovely picture. Mrs. Bruner looked up with
a bright smile of welcome, and Hazel came to her and quietly
said :

"I took the decisive step, mama, and am so happy — just
as you said I'd be. I am sorry I didn't do it long ago."

"Bless your heart, my daughter, you have made me re-
joice today," was all that Mrs. Bruner could say, as she kissed
Hazel tenderly. Then Hazel crossed over to Tom and Dosia,

208 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

kissing each affectionately, but speaking not a word. 'Twas
a sweet silent, sacred communion of hearts, and as they all
gathered around the table, each felt impressed that this was
a solemn occasion. . Mrs. Bruner returned thanks and asked a
special blessing upon the new convert, and prayed that it might
not be long before every member of the household, should find
that peace which passeth all understanding.

CHAPTER XII

When dinner was over, Tom insisted on every one "get-
ting out" and letting him clear the table and wash the dishes.
And while thus engaged the poor boy was deep in miserable
thought. The fact was, he had already sent that picture and
now was oppressed by guilt and fear. What must he do? He
hated deception, but if he should confess — what good could
that do? That would not bring the pictures back — his mother
would be angry, and Mrs. Gray grieved and all to no avail.
Tom didn't believe that James Alexander was an adventurer,
or that Mrs. Gray and Hazel were in danger of being kid-
napped; but to think he had done something so against his
mother's wishes and those of the sad, pale-faced little widow
who looked as if she had had enough of trouble, made the poor,
sensitive, tender hearted boy very miserable. Suddenly he
had a bright idea. He would write to James Alexander and
ask that the pictures be returned, explaining that his mother
objected to a stranger having her daughter's picture.

The letter was written and mailed that afternoon, and
thus poor Tom played into the hands of Fate.

Mrs. Bruner insisted that Dosia quit the mill, declaring
that tight lacing would kill her, and that she must now lay
pride aside for a time and take reason and common sense for
her guides. Dosia listened to the good woman's advice, and
now at the end of three weeks, had been a daily companion to
Mrs. Bruner, and they learned to love each other more and
more devotedly. It was about the middle of October that
Dosia paid her board two months in advance and placed five
hundred dollars in Mrs. Bruner's hands, asking her to see
after everything — confessing her own ignorance concerning
the things she should know. Mrs. Bruner gasped in astonish-

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 209

merit. She had supposed that Dosia only had what she had
saved the past four months.

But she was too well bred to ask questions, even when
Dosia directed her to spare no expense, declaring that the
money should be forthcoming. Dosia also placed a large sealed
package in the good woman's hand saying:

"If I die, break this seal and follow directions inside. This
contains my will and some letters — also my diary, with full
directions how to proceed. If I live, keep this package till I
am able to receive it again." And Mrs. Bruner, puzzled and
amazed, sacredly promised.

As time passed on, uneventfully in this quiet home, Dosia
became more and more despondent and a look in her pale face
was almost enough to melt one to tears. Dr. Ross came almost
daily, declaring her to be in perfect health and trying in many
ways to cheer her shrinking spirit. Dosia felt that she must
die and was almost glad. In vain they tried to cheer her —
tried to banish these morbid ideas — but she invariably re-
plied, "I'm almost sure I shall die."

In the meantime, Tom had been looking now for several
days for a letter from James Alexander. But not a word, not
a line, had he received, and here it was the middle of Novem-
ber, and beautiful weather. It was cold during the mornings,
but pleasant in the afternoons and one evening Mrs. Bruner
and Dosia were "sunning" on the front porch, and looking
over the daily papers, when a country boy came bashfully
up the walk, a large bundle under one arm and a basket of
apples on the other. He wore plain coarse shoes, blue over-
alls and a large slouched hat pulled well over his face, as if
ashamed of his freckles.

"Do ye want some apples, ma'am?" speaking to Mrs.
Bruner. "Only fifteen cents a dozen," in a cracked voice and
sinking to a seat on the steps as Mrs. Bruner examined the
fruit. His back was to Dosia, and the big hat almost com-
pletely hid him, but she could see from the quick way he
breathed that the boy was very tired.

"Why, these are fine," exclaimed Mrs. Bruner, "what do
you ask for the whole basket? I see you are tired and I'll take
them all."

"I dunno — I reckin they's worth a quarter," stupidly.

210 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

"I'll give you half a dollar." And she took the money
from her pocket and paid him and asked him to pour the apples
in her apron.

"Thanky, ma'am, an' good bye," said the boy as he took
the money in a dirty freckled hand and shuffled away. Mrs.
Bruner counted the apples and found that she had four and a
half dozen, and was sorry she had not paid the boy more.

"I think he really needed it," she said regretfully, looking
down the street in the direction he had gone.

"Most people would have paid him a quarter and bragged
over the bargain, I think," remarked Dosia seriously.

"Yes, perhaps; but I always wish to do the right thing,
and if I make a mistake, it is of the head and not the heart."
And Dosia found much food for reflection in the answer. Her
mistakes had all been of the head she thought. If she had lis-
tened to the promptings of her heart and better nature, life
would not be a burden now. But it was too late.

The boy was out of sight and soon was in an empty car
box near the depot, hurriedly shedding the overalls and
slouched hat, and taking a nice suit, including hat, collar and
tie from the huge bundle he carried, wiping the dirt from his
face and hands before coming out, looking altogether a differ-
ent creature. He put his finger to his lips and gave a sharp
whistle, and attracted the attention of a colored boy in rags,
who came forward hesitatingly :

"Look inside here, nigger, and you will find a good pair
of shoes and some overalls."

"Thankee sir, thankee sir. Nobody won't run me in if I get
'em, boss?" half fearfully.

"No — they were mine," and there was a triumphant ring
in the boy's voice. His hands trembled with excitement and
a joyous light was shining in the deep blue eyes. Under his
breath he was ejaculating:

"Ope whiz! Glory to Moses! Golly! I'm it! That lub-
ber heal shall have his picture back and the prize shall be
doubled. What do I want with that little old picture when I'm
going to have the glorious original? Well, I'll be confounded!
Ain't this a slick piece of work? Nick Carter himself couldn't
have done the thing slicker. Whoopee! wish I could stand on
my head! But good Lord! what must I do next? I have no
idea where to find my boss In an asylum somewhere apt as

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 2ll

not; but he said when I left him that he was thinking of run-
ning back to New York to see Dr. Brown. I know — I'll tele-
graph Dr. Brown and he will know what to do. Gee! don't
I wish I could break the news to him myself." And our own
Jimmie Carter — James Alexander Carter — was soon in
Wright's hotel where he already had a room, and was cutting
all kind of antics, and trying to word a telegram to Dr. Brown.

He wrote and re-wrote but at last decided on the follow-
ing:

"The lost is found but doesn't know it. Under the cir-
cumstances I am afraid to approach her. Bring Mr. Jack.

"Jimmie Carter."

That was on Wednesday. Jimmie knew that if Jack
should happen to be in New York and with Dr. Brown, it would
be at least Saturday afternoon before they could reach Co-
lumbia. In the meantime he would pass the time as best he
could, viewing the city.

He went to moving picture shows, to the theatre, and to
the park; he rode, read, ate and slept, but still time dragged.
Thursday night he received an answer to his telegram :

"Jack just arrived. Not well but able to travel. Get there
Saturday nisrht.

"Brown."

Friday Jimmie visited the cotton mills ; he walked all
through the weave-room where Tom and Hazel worked. He
soon saw Hazel and knew her by the picture he had of her.
He saw Tom, and knew him by his likeness to Hazel, and as he
passed Tom's looms he tipped his hat and smiled, leaving Tom
puzzled, and wondering who he could be.

The mills always shut down at noon on Saturday, till
Monday. And on this particular Saturday, when the girls and
Tom went home, they found the Doctor's automobile standing
in the front yard, the dinner was not done, and everything
seemingly in confusion.

Lilly and Hazel looked at each other with pale faces and
wide frightened eyes. Tom gave a low whistle of dismay, but
no one spoke a word. The girls finished dinner, and Mrs.
Bruner ran down to tell them to hurry and dress and go to
their uncles — all of them.

There was a whispered consultation between the mother

212 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

and daughters, and Tom waylaid the little woman as she
started upstairs :

"Mother, maybe— perhaps — do— do you think you won't
need me for anything? I'll stay around in hearing if — if I can
be of any service."

"No, dear — you are very thoughtful, but I'd rather you
would go with your sisters. And don't any of you return till I
send for you."

"All right, mother; but — is — is she all right?" anxiously.

"Oh, yes,. the doctor and nurse say so," she smiled. "And,
Tom, I forgot to tell you — there are several letters on the hall
table for you. Now hurry away, and if you go to town tonight,
don't stay late."

"No, mother, I won't," and Tom went after his mail and
walked out on the front porch to examine it while waiting for
his sisters.

He noticed one addressed in a large free boyish hand, that
made his heart leap. A letter from Jas. Alexander! But ah!
it was mailed that very day and right there in Columbia!
What could it mean? He would see, and without further par-
ley he broke the seal:

"Dear Mr. Tom Bruner:

"I have come in person to see you and to return your pic-
tures and pay you the prize which I promised. They are both
really beautiful, but one is by far the most beautiful face I
have ever seen. Come to the Union depot this afternoon at
about five o'clock, and keep mum concerning our business.
Don't mention it to a soul, if you value your future happiness.
I have much to say to you, but will defer it till we meet. Do
not fail me. This is important. James Alexander."

Tom turned white with dismay. James Alexander in Co-
lumbia on purpose to see him and wanted to see him secretly.
What could it mean? Was it just a ruse to get him away from
home so that the girls might be kidnapped?

But now the girls came out hurriedly and excitedly, call-
ing him to "come on," for it was going to sleet or snow ere
long, it had turned so cold and was cloudly, with the wind com-
ing from the North.

Tom shoved the letter in his pocket, and silently followed
the girls. It was now after two o'clock. He would see his sis-

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 213

ters safely to their uncle's, and then he would bruise around,
sharpen his wits and his knife, and be ready for any emer-
gency. Tom was glad that the girls were going to where two
big and ferocious bull dogs ran loose on the grounds which sur-
rounded the house. He smiled grimly as he thought of what
any one's fate would be who attempted to go unattended
through his uncle's gates.

When they reached the front gate Tom said:

"Now, girls, whatever you do, don't come out — don't go
anywhere until I return to escort you."

"You courteous brother; but of course we shall not go
anywhere at all. We will remain here till mama sends for us,"
said Lilly.

"That we will," affirmed Hazel.

"Well, bye bye, then ; I'll get supper at a lunch room, and
will not be out late. Be good, and don't worry," and he kissed
his hand to them gaily, and walked away, with a curious pain
at his heart

CHAPTER XIII

At the appointed hour, Tom approached the Union depot,
his heart in his throat and his eyes restlessly searching the im-
mense crowd for a mysterious person whom he longed yet
dreaded to see.

He wondered how on earth they should meet and know
each other and mentally decided that James Alexander was a
"blamed fool," Presently as he was going up the broad steps
into the waiting room, a nicely dressed, pleasant faced, red-
headed boy ran after him, and touched his arm :

"Why, hello, Tom! Glad to see you, old boy. Shake!"
raising his hat, holding out a friendly hand and smiling joy-
ously.

"Sure," said Tom, greatly puzzled, but grasping the out-
stretched hand and doffing his cap. "But you have the advan-
tage— I certainly don't have the least idea whom I have the
pleasure of shaking."

"What? Didn't you get my letter this morning?" Was
sure you had come in answer. Tom's mouth and eyes were
open. He gasped.

"What— who— you?"

"James Alexander at your service. But come down here

214 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

to a quiet spot where we can talk," pulling Tom's arm through
his own and walking to the other end of the platform where it
was more deserted.

"You were in the mill the other day — "
"Yes, and knew you at once by the photo of your sister,"
laughed Jimmie.

I'm here on purpose to get that photo," said Tom, stffly.
"You shall have it. Gee! Tom Bruner, you don't know
how I appreciate what you have done for me. Do you know
your fortune is made? Why, boy, you are sure to get a cool
thousand for helping me out in the neatest little piece of detec-
tive work that ever was accomplished." Tom turned white and
looked squarely into Jimmie's happy face.

"What in thunder do you mean?" he demanded sharply.
"I will tell you. By sending me this picture," (handing it
to Tom) you have been instrumental in the hands of a kind
Providence in helping to reunite a loving husband and wife."
Tom grasped the picture eagerly and twenty dollars were
pressed into his hand at the game time.

"Take back your money — I don't want it! And you won't
get me mixed up in your blamed spying business, either," hotly.
"What do you mean anyhow? — what have I done?" indignant,
but curious.

"Easy, Tom, easy. You'll keep that money, and you'll get
a lot more before the show is over. Who is the lady boarding
at your house? — Bet you don't know!"

"I do, too ; she is Mrs. Dosia Gray, the" sweetest, saddest
little widow in the whole wide world," looking gingerly at the
money he held.

"Yes, Mrs. Theodosia Gray Arlington, a rich woman and
wife of Mr. Jack Arlington of New York, a wealthy lawyer,
and my beloved employer. What's she staying and working in
a mill town for beats my eye." Tom clenced his fists and
growled :

"See here, if you have tracked that little woman down and
try to bother her, the dickens will be to pay and — "

"Hold on Tom, not so fast; she will be glad to see her hus-
band— the best man that ever lived. If any two people ever
loved each other they did, and still do. Mr. Jack's suffered ten
thousand deaths since she left him and has spent thousands on
top of thousands, trying to find her. I know all about it, Tom,

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 215

for I have been with Mr. Jack for several years, and know that
she will be just as glad as he is, to be reconciled."

"What did she leave him for? — and where is he now?"

"Jealousy. She was a flirt."

"Don't you lay the blame on her," said Tom angrily.

"Oh, no. Mr. Jack says he alone was to blame, and he's
ready — been ready every since their quarrel, — to eat dirt and
make all kind of apoligies," declared Jimmie good humoredly.
Mr. Jack will be in on the next train, to carry her back home,"
enjoying Tom's discomfiture.

"Well, I guess not!" remarked Tom drily.

"How do you propose to prevent it?" curiously.

"I haven't got a darned thing to do with it; but golly!
there was a big doctor and a fine nurse at home when I left,
and — and — a stork sailing over the house," grinning.

"Geemimy! you don't say so! Now ain't that a rum-go?
The finest doctor in New York is coming, with Mr. Jack. Lord
have mercy! Maybe they won't get to see her tonight at all!
It'll just kill Mr. Jack if he has to wait, too," and Jimmie gave
a prolonged whistle. "Well, I'll be doggone!" Jimmed looked
at his watch.

"It's half an hour till their train comes, so I'll tell you
everything about it When I offered a prize for the prettiest
photo, it was with the hope of getting one of Mrs. Arlington's.
I knew she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and
I thought maybe my prize would induce some kid to take a
snap shot at her, if he should happen to see her. I had given
up getting a clue that way, though, for I had received in the
past two months over three thousand pictures. Then I got
your letter, and pictures, and my heart stood still when I saw
the face I had been looking for.

Then I read your letter, found that you were all mill peo-
ple— you said 'these girls weave in — Cotton Mill' — and my
hopes fell. I was satisfied that it was just a chance likeness,
for I never one time thought of such a thing as Mrs. Arlington
stopping in a mill village, much less working in a mill. The
more I looked at the picture, the more difference I could find
in it and Mrs. Arlington. The face was too sad and melan-
choly, and the eyes did not have the same joyous expression.
I never thought of the difference trouble could make, and dis-
missed the whole thought from my mind. Mr. Jack was speak-

216 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

ing of returning to New York, when I received your second let-
ter, demanding the return of the pictures, in such a way as
made me suspicious. You wrote, that your mother, sister, and
all concerned objected to a stranger having them. You did not
say, "sisters, so I began to wonder which was your sister, and
who was the other. It was a small clue, and seemed an im-
possibility, but I could not bear to let it slip without an inves-
tigation. I would not mention it to Mr. Jack, for I knew bet-
ter then to raise hopes which must in all probability be dashed
to the ground. I couldn't get the idea out of my head. Some-
thing urged me forward, and I asked Mr. Jack to give me ten
days leave of absence, as I wanted to visit a relative in Ashe-
ville, N.C.

He was surprised, but gave me seventy-five dollars, and
told me to wire him if I needed more. Oh, he is the best man
living! He had an invitation to go out in the country on a
hunting trip, and I begged him to accept, which he did, saying
that when he was tired of it, he would run back to New York
for a day or two — something he hasn't done since he left to
search for his wife. You ought to have seen how he hated to
part with me, even for ten days. He said when he saw me off :
"Jimmie, I'm sure she isn't down that way, but keep your eyes
open, and if you get the least clue let me know. But, oh, I have
about decided that my darling is dead."

"Then he said, 'Jimmy, I don't know how I'm going to
stand it without you. But I know you are tired of being tied to
such an old glum and silent, sorrowful man. Have a good time
while you are gone, but don't stajT over ten days my boy, for
you are all I have.' I tell you Tom, that went to my heart —
and me deceiving him that way.

"I got to Columbia last Tuesday night, and engaged a
room at Wright's Hotel. Then I bruised around till I found
your address, and L diked up in a country-boy outfit, took a
basket of apples and went to your house and sold them to one
of the sweetest little gray-haired women I ever laid eyes on."

"My mother," murmured Tom in astonishment.

"And I got a good look at Mrs. Arlington, and knew her,
but took good care she didn't have a good view of my freckled
face." Jimmie laughed. "Tom, I felt like shouting 'Halle-
luyer!' I don't know how I kept from giving myself away, but
— er — you see — I — under the circumstances — I was almost

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 217

skeered to death for her — seeing how she was. I didn't know
what to do, but to lie low till her doctor and Mr. Jack come.
You may bet I lost no time sending a telegram to Doctor
Brown, who has been trying to help Mr. Jack to find\ his wife,
and always knows just where to find the poor fellow.

"The other day when I walked through the mill and saw
you, I just wanted to stop and hug you for what you had done.
I was just crazy to tell you everything, but didn't know how
you would take it, and thought I'd not run any risk till too late
for you to kick. But old boy, you'll be happy as I am when
you see the good you have done."

Tom looked excited and interested : "Gee ! you are up to
Nick Carter ain't you? And you are just a boy like me. My!"
Jimmie laughed :

. "That reminds me — my name is Carter. Alexander is
just my middle name. And Tom, you and I are going to be the
best of friends."

"Yes. that we will, if everything turns out as you expect,"
replied Tom, half doubtfully.

Above the noise and bustle of the busy city, sounded the
distant whistle of a locomotive. Jimmie sprang up eagerly:

"That's their train ! and oh, Lord, help poor Mr. Jack if
he has to wait still longer! How can I tell him? Tom you've
got to help me break the news. I'm afraid he can't stand it.
Lord ! I'm glad Doctor Brown is coming." And Jimmie pulled
Tom's arm through his own again, and hurried out on the
yard, both trembling with excitement.

"I don't want anything more to do with this," demurred
Tom. "I'll never get over it if harm comes to Mrs. Gray —
and by ginger, if harm does come to her, somebody will get
hurt— that's all!"

"Pshaw! Stop croaking and rejoice, I tell you. You'll
be happy when you understand." As the train pulled in Tom
found himself infected with Jimmie's eagerness, and anxiously
watching for — he knew not whom.

"There they are!" and Jimmie, pushing and shoving right
and left, and pulling Tom along with him, made his way to a
tall, broadshouldered, pale-faced but very handsome man, who,
arm in arm with portly, merry-eyed, jolly-faced old gentleman,
was slowly wending his way toward the station, each glancing
eagerly right and left for Jimmie's red head and freckled face.

21S FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

"Here I am, Mr. Jack," spoke Jimmie, hurrying to his be-
loved friend who caught him by both hands and bent eagerly
forward to gaze in the honest blue eyes.

"Jimmie, my boy! where is she?" in a low tense voice.
Tom's heart was at once captured and the tears almost came
to his eyes.

"She's all right, Mr. Jack, and doesn't know that she is
found, so don't worry — wait a little longer. How are you doc-
tor? This is my friend, Mr. Tom Bruner, Doctor Brown — Mr.
Arlington," introducing Tom — "the gentleman to whom we
owe this . happy occasion," added Jimmie graciously.

"I'm all in the dark, but God bless you, Mr. Bruner," said
Jack, warmly shaking hands. The doctor, too, was very much
pleased with Tom.

"Supper is ready for us — it is past six — so we will go up
to the hotel and I'll tell you everything I know, and leave the
rest to you and the doctor." said Jimmie.

"Supper? Good God! Jimmie, you talk to me about sup-
per? Take me to her! Every moment is an eternity!" groan-
ed Jack, forgetting the crowd.

"But, Mr. Jack," cautioned Jimmie, "you must not rush
on her so unexpectedly. She couldn't bear the shock. For her
sake, be patient, and — and — after you understand you will be
glad, and will follow the advice of good Doctor Brown. Doc-
tor Brown glanced inquiringly at Jimmie.

"Jimmie! is she ill?" cried Jack almost wildly.

"Now, just look how you jump at conclusions; I saw her
yesterday and she was the very picture of health," Jimmie
had led the way to a carriage while speaking, and giving the
doctor a look of appeal and entreaty, they persuaded the half
distracted man to enter it.

"Hop in Tom, you are going to take supper with us."

"No, I thank you,— I—"

"Come right on, now, Tom, — you must. I need you," and
Tom, who really did wish to go, sprang in with. Jimmie, feel-
ing that he was having a finger in this "pie," and hoping that
everything would indeed turn out best for the little woman at
home.

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 219

CHAPTER XIV.

Pretty soon they were all in Wright's Hotel, where Jimmy
had already engaged rooms for them, and were soon listening
eagerly to Jimmie's account of his "detective" work. He wound
up by saying:

"And I found that the picture really was hers — and I found
her — but she is not weaving at present,"

"Good heavens! weaving? my beautiful Theo — an heiress
in her own right — my wife, weaving! Working in a cotton mill
for a living?" and Jack sprang to his feet. "She must have lost
her money, poor child," his lips quivering pietously. "Oh, for
God's sake, hurry and let me go to her. She must not stay
there another hour. In a factory town and weaving, God!"

Tom's face flushed; he felt that the man was one of those
who "looked down" on mill people, and he spoke indignantly:

"Sir, she is with my mother, a perfect lady if there ever
was one, and my sisters are the equal of any queen. Any in-
sinuations or slurs cast at factory people touch a tender spot
with me."

"Pardon, my boy, I meant no wrong — I know there are
good people everywhere — but my darling never worked a
moment in her life before, and oh, to think that she toiled, slaved,
rather than come back to me — or ask my help, when I would
so gladly have died for her !"

"I don't think she needed to work sir, but did it from choice
— to pass off time. She was happier when busy," said Tom.

"And she was unhappy, too. Poor little proud Theo, to
think of her tender white hands being blistered and bruised
with toil. Take me to her — what are you waiting for?" reaching
for his hat with an air of determination. Jimmie had been
whispering something to the doctor, whose jolly red face became
serious and pale.

Laying a restraining hand on Jack's arm, the doctor now
spoke gravely :

"Jack, do you remember that Jimmie's telegram said, 'under
the circumstances' he was afraid to make another move? And
do you remember what Theo said to you — the question she so
timidly asked you during your last interview?" The doctor
looked squarely into Jacks face. "Don't you understand?"

" 'Under the circumstances,' Jimmie said. Doctor ! Good

220 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

God! what do you mean? My darling's question rings in my
ears day and night. What do you mean? Why don't you take
me to her? Speak! I will not wait longer," and they saw that
he was indeed desperate and half mad with impatience.

Jimmie looked at Tom appealingly, but he shrank back
bashfully. Then Jimmie, throwing an arm around Jack's neck
affectionately, drew his head down and whispered:

"Oh, Mr. Jack, Tom says when he left the house that there
was a big doctor and a nurse with her, and — and — a stork
sailing around," and Jack stared with white face and despairing
eyes into Jimmie's face, then looked at the doctor as if unable to
comprehend ; then sinking helplessly into the chair that Tom
slipped under him, he groaned in anguish:

"God forgive me — oh, God, forgive me! I drove her away
— dear little woman — oh, I can't bear this suspense, doctor ! We
must go to her. You are her doctor, — I am her husband — what
if she should die and never know that we had come?"

Jimmie was watching Jack with much concern and anxiety.
Tom was idly drumming on the window pane and looking out
through the window, torn with conflicting emotions. What
would his mother think of or say to him about the part he had
played in this? The doctor spoke again :

"Jack, if you will promise to do nothing rash — if you will
be guided by reason and common sense, we will go and see
where she lives and perhaps we can manage to hear how she is
— but we can't intrude, now you know that."

"I'll promise anything — only let me see where she lives —
let me see the roof that shelters my darling — let me know she
is not dead."

Jimmie turned to Tom eagerly:

"Perhaps you could manage to see your mother quietly,
and slip out to us with the latest news? Don't you think so?"

"I might — but — yes, I'll do anything I can for Mr. Arling-
ton," as he saw the man's agonized look of appeal.

So not waiting for supper, the four went out and boarded
a car, which, after going many crooks and curves, dropped
them in the mill town near the "Company Store," from which
they walked, indifferent to the fact that a cold north wind
accompanied by a chilling drizzle, had set in as if for the night.
Tom and Jimmie silently led the way, the doctor and Jack as
silently following, each busy with a multitude of thoughts and

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 221

wild conjectures. Ever and anon, Jack would shiver violently,
but not from the cold. The brilliant electric lights, defying wind,
rain and darkness, twinkled brightly; and when in the distance
Jack saw a huge automobile standing before one of the best
residences he knew intuitively that he was nearing the place of
his loved one.

Just as he surmised, Tom and Jmmie paused in the shadow
of a great evergreen tree, and :

"Here's the place," spoke Tom cautiously. "Now if you will
all remain here quietly, I will go around the back way and try
and see mama." Weak, nervous and apprehensive, Jack leaned
against the tree for support.

"Go! and for God's sake come back as quickly as you can,"
he whispered, hoarsely.

In silent sympathy Jimmie crouched on a projecting root,
and occasionally spoke encouragingly and hopefully to the suffer-
ing man. Presently Tom returned, walking rapidly:

"I just thought I'd come and tell you that I heard — heard
a — something squalling like forty in there!" Jack sprang for-
ward excitedly and caught the boy by his shoulders.

"And my wife — how is she?" eagerly, and tremulously.

"I didn't see any one, sir, but I heard the murmur of cheer-
ful voices and am sure she is all right."

"Tom, please go back and find out something!" pleaded Jack.

"Yes, my boy,' do," added the doctor. "And have your
mother send that doctor out to us soon as possible, so we can
hear from him how everything is," and Tom again disappeared
around the house.

It was perhaps twenty minutes — a lifetime, it seemed to
Jack, ere Tom returned with a happy smile on his face, eagerly
and cautionsly whispering :

"It's a boy! And she is 0. K. mama said." Jack bared his
head and looked up through the dark clouds and with faith in
a beautiful future, he reverently exclaimed:

"My God! I thank Thee! I praise and bless Thy Holy
name, for all thy many rich and undeserved mercies. Hence-
forth, my life shall be an expression of love and gratitude to
Thee. Father, accept me !"

"Amen!" spoke the doctor brokenly, as he grasped Jack's
hand. Tom continued:

"Mama already knew about you, Mr. Arlington, and said

222 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

your wife had declared several times that she felt you were
near — though of course she doesn't know it. And that before
going to sleep your wife was not too much exhausted to be deeply
interested in the baby, and she kissed it murmuring: "My
precious little one! Don't we wish papa knew," and then she
kissed your picture, and fell asleep with it on the pillow by
her cheek. The tears were now rolling down Jack's face and
it was with difficulty that they kept him from rushing into the
house.

Dr. Ross came out and was introduced all around. His
opinion of the patient was gratifying, and he said if she rested
well till morning, the nurse should break the news of Jack's
arrival, and let him into the room.

She had cried out for "Jack" more than once that evening,
and had confessed her identity to the doctor and Mrs. Bruner,
feeling that death was near and she must not die unforgiving
and unloving.

"I was going to assume the responsibility of sending you
a telegram, soon as I reached my office," said Dr. Ross to Jack.
"How glad I am that it is not .necessary, and that the dear
little woman's troubles are over. I'm sure you can see her early
in the morning, Mr. Arlington, without fear of the excitement
having a bad effect. Joy seldom kills."

Jack went meekly back to the hotel, like one in a dream,
but Doctor Brown' found it necessary to give him an opiate ere
he closed his eyes in sleep.

Next morning poor Jack knelt by his wife's bed, and laid his
head on her pillow, pleading 'in broken tones for pardon, ere
he so much as touched her hand.

"Darling, I can never forgive myself," he cried. "But I
plead for my life — I cannot live without you."

"Oh, Jack! my precious boy, I alone was to blame — I have
known it a long time — but would not confess it. I was haunted
by what you said — but — I have reformed, indeed I have, dear,
— and we will both together have charge of him, and may God
help us to bring our little man up in the way he should go,"
and a slender white hand tried feebly to raise the bowed head.

Tenderly Jack gathered the frail figure in his arms and
rained tears and loving kisses on the sweet pale face, far more
beautiful than it had been before chastened by sorrow.

Then Jack wanted to see "the boy" and the nurse brought

FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM 223

the little bundle of ribbon and lace from the next room and laid
him in his father's arms. Jack was too full for wards, but the
rapt expression on his face was far more eloquent, and he was
never so happy as at that moment.

Doctor Brown was waiting impatiently in the parlor, but
thinking they had forgotten him, he ascended the stairs, clearing
his throat and coughing, to anounce his coming.

"Can he come in darling?" asked Jack, still holding the
baby.

"Of course he can," smiled Theo, brightly. "My dear old
doctor." And the nurse opened the door and the good man
walked in cheerfully:

"Bless my life! if you haven't played a trick on us — you
sly puss!" stooping to kiss her cheek. "My! my! I have never
been so surprised nor so pleased. All things work together for
good — didn't I always say so? And say, now Jack, arn't you
happier than you could have been under any other circum-
stances? Come, 'fess up !' Haven't 'these light afflictions' worked
out for you a greater happiness?" and he took the baby from
Jack going to the window to look at him.

"Light afflictions indeed," smiled Jack, bending over Theo
"But darling, I am so happy that I can't realize just now, how
much I have suffered." The nurse and doctor were busy with
the baby and did not notice that two white arms were twined
around Jack's neck, and the affectionate words he had pleaded
for in his note and longed for months to hear, were whispered
in his ear :

"My own, precious, darling boy!"

But why prolong the story ? Tom, instead of being reproved,
was looked upon as a kind of hero and benefactor, and in spite
of his earnest protests, a thousand dollars were placed in the
bank for him. Mrs. Bruner and the girls received numerous and
magnificent presents, among them being a grand piano.

On the last day of December, Jack and Theo returned to
New York, in company with Jimmie, and none of their society
friends ever knew but what they had just come back from their
foreign tour! Doctor Brown had long since returned and was
the first to welcome them home, where the servants had been
notified to have everything in readiness.

The following June the Rev. Harriss and Lilly Bruner were
happily married. Mr. Stanford had continued to call occasion-

224 FROM BALL ROOM TO WEAVE ROOM

ally upon Hazel, but one day, with her dark eyes blazing with in-
dignation, she quietly pointed him to the door and requested
that he never call again.

Theo did not fail to let Mrs. Evans know that she and Jack
were again so happy, and Jack laughed heartily over the charac-
teristic letter which she wrote, which began with "I told you so!"

Mrs. Evans, Mrs. Bruner and Theo correspond regularly,
DuBoise joined the U. S. army. Jimmie is still with "Mr. Jack,"
and Doctor Brown is never happier than when in the Christian
home of the Arlingtons and playing with the boy.